Newton and his Apple
by seafox
Summary: "There's a force called Gravity that pulls apples to the ground, didn't you know?" His friend laughed and a ridiculously irrational part of him wished he could be Milo's ground then.
1. The apple falls

**Ok, so, there has been a long time since I last posted a fic here. You know, these days I was feeling a bit nostalgic and decided to read a few stories about the first couple I ever wrote: Milo and Camus, they were always my favourites characters in the anime and for my luck they fit perfectly together… it is no surprise that they were the first yaoi couple I wrote about, even though this is the first time I publish a fic about them. Maybe some day I'll put here some old stories about them, but this one is fresh and I am enjoying it.**

**Truth is that just there aren't enough fics about them.**

**For the ones who have never read one of my stories I'd like to apologise for my grammar errors, English is not my first language although is my favourite.**

**Please, enjoy.**

NEWTON AND HIS APPLE

Chapter 1 – The apple falls

He sighed with impatience one more time, as he tried to walk without touching other people. He _hated_ to shop for food on a Sunday morning. His mother was certainly going to pay for that. Only because he was a good cook and soon-to-be a famous chef of a great restaurant didn't mean he had to spend his vacations from college cooking only because his little brother Hyoga was turning 16 that day. It wasn't as if the boy was interested in anything else than making out with his green haired boyfriend anyway.

"Camus, you know how Hyoga thinks you're the best, you're his idol, you have to be gentle to him!" his mother had said after announcing that he would be making an exotic dinner that night, for Hyoga's birthday party.

"Don't make this face, sweetheart. You can invite a friend too, if you'd like. I know they all love your food!" she had said with a happy smile, to then leave him at the breakfast table, rolling his eyes. None of his friends would be able to go. Saga went with his brother to some resort at some tropical island. Shaka had gone in some kind of spiritual retreat in India. And there was Mu, but he was probably too busy taking care of his little brother Kiki, since their parents were travelling. Well, maybe the kid would enjoy getting out of the house and his friend could take a rest…

Either way, there was just no arguing with his mother. He would have to cook for a bunch of annoying teenagers and endure a few hours of watching their silly games and dodge the advances of one Hyoga's friends, a girl with long purple hair who looked at him as if he was some sort of brave knight in shinning armour.

So, there he was, in plain busy Greek street market searching for ingredients for an exotic dinner. The problem with making something traditional from their homeland France, he couldn't imagine.

He had already bought almost everything he needed; now all he had to do was to decide what to make for dessert. And it was not easy to think carefully in the noisy Greek market, full of people coming and going, selling and buying and—

And tackling people to the ground, he realized annoyed, as suddenly something hard met his right arm, taking him to the ground along with his bags and a lot of other things. It took all of his self control to not yell at the immensely stupid human being responsible for that. If _any_ of the items in the bag was even slightly ruined, something bad would happen! Already preparing his famous and effective ice glare – specially known in the gastronomy school for having almost frozen a teacher who had dared to criticize his pie – Camus opened his eyes to see the cause of his fall. He was immediately startled and soon the glare was deactivated.

"Apples?" Camus murmured as he found himself surrounded by a sea of dozens and more dozens of apples. Big, red, _luxurious_ apples. He had been thinking about using them on the dessert. '_But I __**could**__ have found them_.' He thought, as his sides were beginning to complain from the fall.

"Oh, my..! I'm so so sorry, sir! I was not looking to where I was going, I… I'm really sorry. Are you OK?"

When he looked up, he was startled again. There, staring worriedly at him from across the sea of apples was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Long curly blue – maybe a bit purple-ish – hair, tanned skin and the ocean in the eyes; a guilty expression was plastered through that gorgeous face, and following down his neck there was a divine body, merely hidden by a white t-shirt and jeans.

"Sir? Are you hurt?" The pretty creature came closer, now kneeling by his side and slightly touching his arm with the point of calloused fingers.

The contact sent shivers through Camus body, and just when he found his voice again and was about to answer, they were interrupted.

"Milo! What did you do?" yelled some lady of tanned skin, approaching them.

"It wasn't on purpose! I was a bit distracted and… I'm sorry!" the guy pleaded once again, and looked from the old woman to him with a worried frown.

Milo? His name was Milo?

Camus sat there, staring at the so called Milo and then staring to the red fruits around them.

"You're name is Milo?" he inquired, ignoring the worried questions and excuses of the woman by their side.

"Yes…" the other answered slowly, not understanding the smirk being formed on the guy's face.

"And you sell apples in the market?"

Then Milo laughed, understanding the line of thought. The shouting lady left them, waving her head.

"Yes. Long story." He answered, and offered his hand so Camus could stand "And what is your name?"

"Camus."

"You're not from here, I take it." Milo said, leaning to pick up Camus forgotten bags of recently bought food "And considering these things you bought, I bet you are going to cook some fancy dinner tonight."

Still lost into the sea of his eyes, Camus took his time to answer as he slowly reached for his bags.

"Yes, that's a long story too."

"Not a happy one, judging from your face." Milo laughed.

"Well, it might be that it has a good ending." Camus smiled, wondering when he had become that flirtatious or if his picked interest was too obvious.

"Good for you." The market boy beamed him a happy grin before turning around and beginning the task of recollecting the apples from the ground.

Before he realized what he was doing, Camus left his bags by the box where Milo was putting the apples back and started to help him.

"Oh no, please don't! There is no need for you to help me, it was my fault." Milo said, and then he looked at his back and pointed to the angry lady talking with other woman on the stand by the corner. "And my mother will whack me with a spoon if she thinks I asked for your help."

The pout on his face was so absolutely cute, that Camus had to chuckle. He smirked at the Greek Apple Beauty in front of him.

"Why? I am just choosing the ones I like best. I have in mind to bake an apple pie for my brother's birthday tonight."

He was not sure why he made a point of telling it was no romantic dinner he was cooking, but the thought soon left his mind when Milo flashed him other grin and offered him the apple in one of his hands.

"Here, a free sample. These are the best in the city!"

Later on that night, Mu was helping him to set the table. The Tibetan was his oldest friend, and even though he was a disaster at the kitchen, he used to do reasonably well when following Camus' orders.

"… and then he spent his night by the river. Can't really see the point of it, but he seems to be enjoying. Each one with his own meditation, right?" Mu was in babble mode. "I mean, I just sit and close my eyes, Shaka needs his mantras, Saga has his money and you cook. Or ignore your friends while they are talking."

Camus smirked to show that he had listened.

"What's on your mind, anyway? You've been whistling the whole night. I haven't seen you whistle during cooking ever since… hell, ever since Shaka and I announced that we were dating."

He smiled to the memory.

"Well, that really was a special occasion. You two were desperate for each other."

"Oh, and what were you so desperate about that you finally found?"

Unable to avoid a blush when the market's boy came to his mind as if answering Mu's question, Camus turned his back and pretended to check the oven's temperature.

"Can't I just be in a good mood?"

"_You_? Hell, no! You don't have good moods, you have occasional passing non-scowling faces."

"You make me sound like a person who people don't enjoy having around." He joked.

"Well, I suppose your food compensates." Mu joked back and put a finger on the cream for the pie "This is amazing!"

Camus smiled arrogantly. Usually his food made people forget what they were bugging him about. But you can always count on Mu to stick to an uncomfortable subject.

"This is really delicious, Cam! Are you in love or anything?"

**I hope to post next chapter tomorrow or something like that. If everything goes along with the plan, this story won't take too long to be finished.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**seafox**


	2. The apple falls again

**OK, here is chapter two. I hope you appreciate it =)**

**Oh, and thank you for the review!**

Chapter 2 – The apple falls again

_Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop._

"Er… Camus?"

Without putting his knife away, he looked at his friend from the corner of his eyes and saw Kanon shiver.

"Never mind." Said Saga's twin, and returned to sit on the sofa with Mu and Shaka. The three of them whispering like there was no tomorrow.

_Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. Chirp._

Camus sighed. That was the last carrot. Time to wash the onions. Not even the running water could silence the hushed voices in the living room. He suddenly snapped.

"I can hear you!"

His three friends immediately froze.

"Cam, I am sure Saga will—"

"Be here at any minute now and you won't let me concentrate!"

Saga had been promoted, and they had decided to make a surprise dinner for him. Of course Camus was cooking that night, to make it special. Or would be, had he not burned the vegetables twice.

"Hey, don't blame us. You know the reason why you can't concentrate, and it has nothing to do with us." Kanon suddenly said and got up, trying his best to look at Camus' eyes without freezing "And I suggest that you don't mix your perfectionism with our celebration with my brother."

Behind Kanon, he could see both Shaka and Mu relatively wide eyed, unable to breathe in expectation. They knew Camus was not in the best mood to be challenged, but Saga's twin had never really been good on the head.

"Now, you are going to put your knife away and look at the online menu with us, so we can choose a pizza." Kanon said slowly, and added with a tentative smile later "And we need an expert to match it with the wine we bought."

For a few seconds, everyone held their breath, waiting for Camus reaction. He sighed. He knew when to stop.

"We've bought only red wine. Just don't ask anything with fish and it will be alright." He told his friends and went back to clean up his mess in the twin's kitchen, feeling three pair of worried eyes on his back.

That last two months had been hard on him. Self-imposed hardship, maybe, as his mother had pointed out to him, but it was difficult nonetheless. For more reasons than people knew.

One night he is peacefully hearing Shaka's stories from his journey and comes home to find a very drunk father accusing him of dead weight, of being good for nothing more than holding pans on the right time. Well, it is only natural that Camus had decided to get a job after that.

His father had been so drunk he didn't recall telling his son none of that, Camus knew. But it hurt and it wasn't something that his mother's soothing words could heal, the only way for him now was to get free.

He needed his own money first, and so he began to visit all of the city's restaurants to ask for a job. Nothing, until after two weeks he finally found an open vacancy – with four more applicants. Of course there would be a gastronomic test and he had to prepare. For some reason though, his food had not the taste it usually held and he lost the job offer. In the middle of all that, classes had started again and he couldn't spend the whole day running around from restaurant to restaurant in town.

His friends had tried to cheer him up, had asked him to cook for Saga's celebration, and yet not even that he was getting right.

Then, the phone rang and after a few minutes he heard hurried tones in the room.

"Camus, quick, Saga is in the hospital!"

Car accident.

Knowing Saga, they couldn't help but to get a little mad at their friend – he was crazy in every aspect of his life, including behind a wheel.

The person who had called from the hospital couldn't tell for sure what had happened, but all four of them were half betting that it had been Saga's fault even though no one would say it out loud. And since apparently no major damage had been done, even ever-sympathetic Mu felt the right to think that Saga was a moron who had ruined their night.

Not that the night had been especially good for Camus, so far. In his inner mad despair for getting away from his economic dependence, he actually considered checking if the hospital was in need of chefs or anything like that. He was sure the patients would appreciate some quality food served on their beds.

When they were allowed to see him, they were shown the way by a male nurse about their age. Very light purple hair and a very pretty face. Camus could see Kanon taking notice of how his hips balanced beneath the nurse's blue uniform. 'Aphrodite' could be read on a little shiny plate on his shirt.

"Your friend is all right, nothing but a few scratches. It was the other one who took the worse of it, I'm afraid."

"Was it serious?"

"Not much, but he will have to rest for a bit longer than your friend. And he lost his bicycle, as well as part of the products he was supposed to sell, too."

Camus could see Kanon flinching at that information, probably already counting how much that would cost them. Not that money was a problem for the twins. Each received alone in their jobs more than Camus, Mu and Shaka would ever gain in a year's worth. They had even offered to hire Camus, but his pride had said no even before he considered the proposition. He liked his friends as if they were family – and he would not get out of his father's pocket to enter the twin's.

"Was it very expensive the things he lost?" Kanon asked and was elbowed on the side by Mu. 'Be more sensible' the purple haired mouthed and Shaka nodded his head in agreement.

Nurse Aphrodite scowled at him before he answered.

"Only apples for you, the means of survival for him." He said and stopped, pointing at a corner "Your brother is over there. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll attend the one he hit with his car."

"Nice way to go, Kanon." Shaka commented as they watched the nurse retreat and disappear behind blue curtains three beds to the left.

"What? I was just—"

"Don't try to explain it." Shaka sighed and moved to the bed where Saga was being patched up by some other nurse, being followed by Mu and Kanon.

Camus stood on his place, watching the bed Nurse Aphrodite had gone to. He couldn't see the person who was there, only the nurse's feet were visible. Could it be possible? It would be a huge coincidence if his friend had hit the guy from who he had bought apples the other day, wouldn't it?

Slowly walking to follow his friends, Camus gave the matter some thought. The market guy had been on his mind a few times ever since that day, but with all his problems going on he chose to not acknowledge the fact. He had considered going to the street market again, and had gone so far as to walk out of his door with the car keys on his hand – unfortunately that was just three mornings after his father's drunk speech, and as soon as checked his wallet he went back into freezing mode again, deciding he had no time for futile flirting with gorgeous fruit-named guys in the market.

But now all this business with Saga… Had Shaka and Mu known about his little market tale they would both be tugging him about destiny as soon as the word apple had been pronounced by the nurse.

The vision of Saga being lectured by Mu on how he should be more careful made him put those considerations apart for the moment. It was time for his appointed role of the night. Every time Saga or Kanon or both did something stupid, Camus and Shaka would reverse the function of responsible father of the group – Mu was always the mother.

"That was stupid." Was the first thing he said when he reached his friend and Saga flinched.

"I was on a proper speed, I promise!"

"That does no good if you don't look out for cyclists."

"I was, well…"

Camus sighed, he had no patient for his friend's excuses for being inconsequent that night.

"Just get patched in silence until you're in the car. I'll check the one you ran over."

"Can you check with him if he is going to sue us?" Kanon asked, but soon was silenced when Camus gave him the hell-freezing stare.

As soon as he turned his back he heard his friends whispering, probably about his worsened mood lately, but he couldn't care less. Right now he just wanted to satisfy his curiosity, even though he tried not to get his hopes high. What were the odds, anyway? (Maybe he wanted to see if his heart would beat fast again in case it really was Milo, but that was beside the point.)

Well, it did. When his eyes met the cascade of blue hair resting on the pillow and the tanned skin contrasting with the white linen from the sheets, a lot of things he couldn't name started to happen on his body. Milo was beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more, despite the bruises on his left cheek and his arms.

His eyes were closed so Camus just stood there for a moment, watching him. Part of him was trying to memorize that face with more details, and the other part was taking notice of how stupid he had been to not return to the market. After a few seconds, however, the other must have felt he was being watched.

When Milo opened his eyes, he was confused for a moment. After a few instants staring at Camus' face, though, recognition came to him.

"You! Ah… what are you doing here? Am I dreaming or something?"

Camus couldn't help but smirk.

"You have to stop being hit by people when you're carrying your apples." He said, approaching the bed.

"Yeah, well… maybe it's your fault, since you seem to appear every time that happens." Milo grinned weakly "Maybe I was dreaming both times."

"Hm, sorry to disappoint you, but this is real. It was my friend who was driving the car that hit you." He explained a bit awkward, hoping that Milo wouldn't send him away for that.

"Really? Of all the people in town, eh? And is he all right, your friend?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I'm sorry for his stupidity. If it was for me, he would have gotten much worse. But he got only a few scratches." He answered rolling his eyes and hiding his relief when Milo chuckled of his words.

"Don't be so hard on him, he could have died."

Camus lifted his eyebrow. "So could you."

"Good point. But my funeral would've been easier." Milo tried to grin again and for some reason Camus felt his heart constrain with those words.

"Who would sell me the best apples in the city, then?"

"Oh, you never came back; I thought you might have not liked them." He answered in a half joking tone while trying to sit more comfortably.

Camus stole the pillow from the bed by their side to aid him and they fell in awkward silence, neither very sure of what to say.

"So… how was the dinner you were going to cook? Someone's birthday, right?"

"My little brother's, yes. It was good. There was nothing left of the pie I baked with your apples." Camus answered with a small smile and Milo made a pouty face.

"Aww, I wish I had the chance to taste it." And soon his face was all honest curiosity "Are you a chef, or something?"

"Well, studying to be one. Still have one more year in college. And... What about you?"

"Oh, me? I can cook to avoid starvation, but don't ask me to get the amount of salt right." Milo laughed lightly, filling the French's ears with that delightful sound.

"Do you go to college, though?"

"Oh, no. No money for that. Mom and Dad decided that it was best if I stuck with the family business: growing and selling apples. And other fruit too, of course. I like to read, though. Some day when I'm older and I have passed on the family business to my children I will be one of those old guys who go to college to learn about literature and classic books and stuff. Dickens is my favourite, although the one you share your name with is in my top five too."

Camus was dazzled for a moment. First because he didn't know that accident recovering people could talk so much in a single breath. Second because he thought it was kind of absurd that his parents had simply decided Milo wouldn't go to college just because they had no money. And the Greek talked naturally about it, as if it wasn't a big deal, as if he truly didn't mind. It was a very different reality from his. _And here I was, fuming because of my father. At least he lets me do what I want, regardless of what he thinks of it._

"I very much hope you are not here to bug him about money in your friend's place." The sudden arrival of Nurse Aphrodite brought him to reality again "Is he upsetting you, Milo darling?"

"What? No. Why would he?" Milo asked confused.

"Because money is all his friend there thinks about and I wouldn't be surprised if this one is his lawyer, covering his dirties."

Camus sighed. "I am actually a student of gastronomy."

"Rich people nonetheless and I won't have you upsetting my friend here." The nurse said, relentless, putting his hands on his hip and trying to look scary. It was no good against Camus and his chilling unfriendly stare, but to the guy's credit he made the possible to sustain a little eye battle with the French.

Aphrodite's scowling face, however, was broken when they heard Milo laughing.

"Hey, Dite, relax. He wasn't doing any of that. He is one of my costumers, can you believe it? Just two months ago he was buying apples from me, right after I knocked him to the ground with a wooden box!" he explained happily.

Aphrodite looked at Camus as if studying him and after a few minutes of inspection a strange glow appeared on the nurse's eyes.

"I see… well. If you need me to take care of him for you, just scream. I'll be right there telling his knuckle head friend that he can go." And with that he left, not after blinking at Milo.

Choosing to ignore it, Camus returned his attention to Milo.

"Your friend is very sincere." He commented sarcastic and the Greek laughed.

"And overprotective. Is your friend going to pester me, though, about his car?"

"Not unless he is willing to have a serious conversation with me."

"What are you, his father?" Milo grinned jokingly.

"Sometimes. We and other friend of mine reverse on the role."

Milo chuckled and was about to say something when they were interrupted again. Camus only noticed that when he saw the shy expression on the other's face.

Looking behind him he found his four friends staring at them, mildly confused. They stood tall and waiting for Camus to say anything.

"Yes?" he acknowledged their presence at last, not very fond of the interruption.

"Well, we were…"

"Don't you have anything to say to Milo, Saga?" Camus interrupted Mu, making it clear with his eyes that Saga had no choice in the matter.

"Of course. Well, I am sorry. I was distracted, I never saw you. Can I… can I do anything for you? Your bicycle got wrecked…"

"Oh, there is no need thank you. It's enough that we both are OK." Milo answered with a small uncertain smile and Saga nodded in return, as uncomfortable as one could get in front of the person one ran over with a car.

"So, Camus, we were going to catch that pizza now." Mu said, discretely looking inquisitive to the man on the hospital bed "Will you…"

"I'll meet you later. You four go on first, on Saga's car. I'll ride Milo home, since he lost his vehicle." Camus answered and even without looking he perceived Milo tensing on the bed. His friends' surprised looks weren't unexpected either.

"Oh, I guess I… I could do that, since it was my fault." Said Saga, still out of place.

"Do you two know each other, then?" asked Kanon, not so discrete in his curiosity as the other three.

"We have bumped into each other once. I'll—"

"Hey, there is no need for you to do that. Aphrodite will take me home when his shift ends. I don't want to be a burden for you and…" Milo began to say before his sentence was cut.

"I don't think you have a choice here, kid. When Camus says he'll do something, he'll do something." Shaka interrupted him, smirking. Count on the Indian to understand a situation faster than anyone "Besides, you would be doing us favour, so we don't have to put up with this ice cream of bad mood."

Camus' eyebrow twitched. Milo laughed a little, though.

"Well, I don't want to spoil your pizza…" then he looked uncertain at Camus.

"Oh, don't worry about it. He is a chef, you know. He has a few opinions about pizza." Mu smiled with his small joke nicely "Besides, after an accident the best thing is to get home soon. And I sure would trust Camus better at driving than Saga, as you could experience yourself."

"Hey!" Saga protested weakly and Milo chuckled again.

They – which meant everyone but Camus – exchanged a few more polite words before the four left the place.

"They don't seem so bad." Milo offered with a small smile.

"I guess they aren't." Camus answered a bit amused as he watched his friends leaving the place. Part of him wondered how long it would take for them to call inquiring about Milo, he was sure Mu would waste no time in connecting the dots if he remembered the apple pie from Hyoga's birthday – _Note to self: turn the cell phone off_. Another, smaller part of him mused on the coincidence of the whole ordeal.

"So… were you serious, then?" Milo asked timidly, not looking at him.

"About driving you? Of course." He said, hiding a puzzled expression. He figured Milo would be comfortable again, now that his friends had gone.

"Won't I trouble you?"

"Of course not."

"Well, my house is far from the city and…"

"Do you want to stay here?" Camus asked a little too bluntly and immediately regretted when he saw Milo's expression "I mean, I understand if you prefer to go home with a trusted friend."

"No, no. That's not the problem. I just want to be sure it won't be a burden for you, you know, you might not to return in time for the pizza with your friends. But I really would like to go home now." Then, watching their surroundings, Milo inclined his head closer and whispered "I hate hospitals, but don't tell Aphrodite that."

It was good thing they were alone. Camus would rather keep his reputation of cold bastard. It was just impossible not to laugh. How long had it been since he had last laughed like that? No matter, he had a feeling he might be doing that more if he stayed around Milo.

**Thank you for reading. Next chapter shouldn't take long.**

**seafox**


	3. The tree from which it fell

**Hello, here is next chapter, where you can see more of Milo's life even though I remain with Camus' POV.**

**I would like to thank you for the lovely and encouraging reviews!**

**I hope you enjoy this as you've enjoyed the other two.**

Chapter 3 – The tree from which it fell

He was not lying when he had said his house was far from the city, but Camus did not complain. In fact, it was just what he needed. One hour drive with a talking Milo by his side.

The conversation went about various topics. Milo's fear of hospitals (which Aphrodite wasn't supposed to know about). Milo's appreciation of Camus' electric car (which was very good for the environment). Milo's opinion on global politics (which were resumed to 'fucking stupid politics did everything wrong'). Milo's favourite place in the city (which happened to be the same as Camus'). And so on.

So, obviously it came to a point that the Greek became silent and simply started to ask about him, seeing that he had already told much about himself.

"My family moved here a few years ago, because of my father's work. We're from France." He began, without knowing what kind of things to say.

"Ah, that, I figured the moment I heard you speaking that day in the market. And do you like it here?"

"Not specially. It's too hot for my taste. And there aren't many opportunities for my line of work, although the gastronomy course at college is very good. I miss France, truth to be told." He answered distracted, paying attention to the feel of the cool wind on his face.

"Oh."

Noticing the unusual quiet response of the other, Camus looked at him from the corner of his eyes and realized he had just been criticizing the city, which Milo had already said he loved.

"There are things I like here, though." He added, trying to make it better "People are very receptive, even though I am not very fond of people."

Milo chuckled and Camus didn't feel so bad.

"I had also figured that much. Back in the hospital you might as well have shooed your friends away as if they were mosquitoes. And I remember your face on the market. After you paid for your apples and left, I remember your indignant expression at the people walking by so hurriedly you had to keep dodging them with your bags. You seemed to be one grumpy French to me, then."

Camus looked at him a bit surprised.

"I-I mean, not that grumpy is bad and… well… you do seem to be capable of freezing people on the spot."

"Hn. If you ever meet Mu again, ask him about one of my professors and he will tell you a story that might make you laugh." Camus smirked.

"Mu was the purple haired, right? He seemed really nice. The nicest one actually, although his boyfriend seemed to be cool after you got used to it. Am I right?"

"Pretty much. Is it that obvious that they are boyfriends?"

"Of course. They walk touching and constantly checking for each other's presence. And the twins? They don't fool me. They have something on between them, I bet. Twins special connection or something." After a few seconds though, Milo covered his mouth with his hands "Shit, I am so sorry. I am here talking about your friends so rudely."

"Not at all, you got everything right from them. Just never bring the topic in front of Saga and Kanon, they are a bit touchy on the matter."

"Hmmm, okay. I'll try and remember all that if one them ever hits me with a car again."

"Or next week." Camus said suddenly, not quite sure where that impulsiveness had come from.

Milo looked at him puzzled and for once remained silent, waiting for the other to enlighten him.

"That will be my birthday. I was thinking of cooking a small dinner for a few people. I was thinking of baking that pie again." He said a bit awkward, and decided to add something to make the invitation lighter "Unless you can't provide some of those apples. In that case I'll have to think of other fruit."

Milo chuckled a bit, but didn't answer. He looked at his hands, a small smile on his face and a thoughtful expression in his eyes. _Nice way to go Camus, burn all the butter before you have the eggs ready_. As the wind blew on their faces, he thought desperately of something good to say. But the Greek beat him to it.

"Oh, there's my house."

Milo was clearly embarrassed by the simplicity of the small and a bit old construction, but Camus thought the place was beautiful. The house was not a mansion, of course, but had its charm, with its Greek style and antique air. And the surroundings? Trees and nature everywhere! The sounds were of the wind on the leaves and of the distant ocean somewhere.

"You are lucky to live here." He said with small, sincere smile. And while the other clearly thought that Camus was just being nice, smiled back nonetheless.

Then they heard lots of people talking and suddenly the lights went on in the house; soon, five people came out hurriedly. First came the lady from the market who he recognized as Milo's mother and a little girl holding her skirts; an old man, probably the father. Those three swarmed over Milo with hugs and quick never ending questions about his well fare.

The other two, however, came on a steady pace towards _him_, both stopping in front of Camus as if circling him. One was very tall and looked like an older Milo, but not much older; the other had tan skin and clear Italian features.

"So you are the one Aphrodite told us about." Said the Italian with a heavy accent, confirming his suspicions about his origins.

"You are not the one who ran over my brother, you are just the bastard's friend." Said older Milo staring analytic at him from head to toe "A rich boy feeling guilty, eh?"

"Kardia, leave him alone." came Milo to stand at his side "Camus was very kind to set me free from the hospital and to drive me all the way here."

Said Kardia gave him one more menacing look before he went into the house again, with the Italian on his heels. The sight was soon substituted by the mother overwhelming him with gratitude.

"Oh, thank you sir!" she kissed his cheeks and hugged him tightly "You should not have gone to such trouble. Please, come inside and have some coffee with us before you head back, it sure is a long way.

He felt awkward sitting in their kitchen while Milo described his accident, especially with Kardia glaring at him the whole time, as if he had been the one to hit his little brother. Camus could not really blame him, and for a moment he felt tempted to give Saga's address to the big angry Greek.

All of that was forgotten, however, when Milo's mother decided he had to eat something so he would recover faster. She brought a few things that would not usually taste good together and insisted that Milo should eat. For his turn, Milo refused pointedly, arguing he was not hungry; soon all of the family was engrossed into the discussion, and Camus was forgotten on his chair, watching curious the whole development. Until something took hold of him and he decided to intervene.

He knew it was extremely impolite from his part. You don't just get things on the table and make a sandwich in a house you've never been to before. However, the sight of a stubborn Milo and his equally stubborn mother over such odd combination of ingredients caused something to stir inside him. Then, before he could control himself, he coughed lightly.

"Excuse me, do you mind?" he said with his head low, already extending his hand for the nearest knife.

Soon, he was standing and had control over the whole table, doing his magic under the curious stare of the Greek family. Even the brute Kardia was interested in what he was doing. It had been a good while since he last had such unexpected inspiration, so he would enjoy it to the most. Besides, he was not sure he would ever get the chance to cook for Milo again.

"There." He said satisfied, putting the knife down and cleaning his hand on a forgotten cloth over the sink as he watched the ten sandwiches he had produced "Would you please try one, Milo?"

He had not thought the other would accept, seeing the scene he had witnessed earlier. For his surprise, though, Milo grabbed the nearest sandwich and took a bite, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. Still, it was enough. One bite and the Greek's eyes widened, proceeding to devour the rest. Encouraged by his reaction, the family followed his example.

"This is good!" said the little girl, whose name was Miho, he had learned

"Zeus, I don't know how you've managed to do this with all that crap that was on the table, but you've really made it, rich boy. You can ride my brother around whenever you want." Said Kardia taking his second sandwich.

"Henph!" shouted Milo with his mouth full.

Camus chuckled, hiding his relief that he had both gained the older brother's respect and achieved to produce some descent food. Seeing that there weren't at least two sandwiches for each, he had not tasted it, but from the looks on their faces it had to be good.

"I'm gonna save this one for Aphrodite." Said Deathmask, the menacing look far from his face "I'm sure he will think better of you, then."

"Oh?" Camus wasn't exactly surprised that Nurse Aphrodite had warned the family that he was taking Milo home, but he had not expected that the nurse had said something bad about him.

"Yeah, Dite was all furious about how you were guilty because of your friend, the one who ran over Milo." Explained the Italian before he took another bite.

"Oh, silly him! Mr. Camus is being very gentle with us, driving Milo home and then making Milo eat something. And using such cheap ingredients!" said Mamma Helena, then she smiled a bit shy at him "I am sorry that there was nothing better for you to cook, sir. You must be used to some very expensive food."

"Nonsense. All that you have here is very good quality. The bread and the cheese are homemade, the vegetables were planted here, the spices were fresh. I was telling Milo how I appreciate the apples you grow here." And as an afterthought he added with a small smile "And please drop with the formality, just call me Camus."

"What about Chef Camus, since you are in the kitchen cooking for us?" asked a grinning Milo, who had been silent so far.

"Save that for when I work in a restaurant." Camus smirked, so distracted in hiding his contentment with his successful sandwich that he had forgotten about his present unemployment situation for the moment.

"You don't work anywhere?" asked Papa, and Camus heard the very tiny tone of disapproval in his voice. Which was just great, all he needed was another person who thought he was useless.

Before his rising moodiness could start taking over him, though, Milo spoke up.

"Well, that is a crime. The city should know you can do this kind of thing!"

"Tell the city's restaurant that. I've been trying for some time now." Camus said with a tired smile, remembering how stressful things had been those past days "I even thought to ask if there was job for a cook in the hospital."

"Eh, if there was food like this in there maybe I wouldn't mind staying there."

Milo's smile was so full of energy and his voice so excited and sincere that Camus could not help but smile back. His eyes were innocent and honest, you could see everything there. Not to mention of how his hair fell around his beautiful face. It was amazing how even now, after a couple of hours by his side he still felt drawn to him. Once he started looking he couldn't stop, it was like he was about to dive inside the ocean.

You can always count on an older brother to interrupt prolonged exchange of glances, though. He couldn't even remember how many times he had done that to Hyoga and Shun.

"Never knew that rich kids needed to work." Said Kardia with the most sarcastic voice one could manage, earning an ugly look from both Milo and their mother "If you really want to, though, I know of a place. Nothing fancy, but it's French, if you believe in destiny."

Well, that picked his interest. He had tried all the French restaurants he knew in town.

"Where is it?"

"It's in a somewhat hidden street, right behind the street fair where we sell our apples." Kardia said, than he looked at Deathmask "Near your brother-in-law flower shop, do you know?"

"Oh! Albafica took us there once. Too much French stuff, if you ask me – no offence – but the place is nice. Aphrodite loved it."

"The owner has a frozen stick up his ass, if you know what I mean. But hey, maybe you French people can understand each other." Kardia smirked at him, but then he looked at Milo "I guess I could take you there. Stop by the market during lunch time one of these days."

"Thank you, I would appreciate that very much." Any chance was a chance, and Camus would try it. He could deal with moody bosses – hell, he probably would become a moody boss, someday.

"That would be great, Kardia!" Milo almost jumped with excitement "I hope they have a place for Camus."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. The guy is so unnerving, I can't imagine who would want to work there unless they were in real need." Kardia said, his expression becoming harsher at just talking about the men "Either that, or no one is good enough for his prick nose. His name is Degel, or something."

"The way you talk about him, seems it'll be quite a strain to take me there." Camus couldn't resist lifting an eyebrow, half curious and half worried that Kardia might say something that could ruin his interview.

"Oh, no." Kardia smiled evilly then "I will love to hold him in debt for taking a good cook there."

He laughed but soon got wacked in the shoulder by Milo, warning him to not mess Camus job interview. And then all broke loose. Kardia shot something back, then the mother interfered and then the father and suddenly he was the only quiet person in the kitchen while all the others were discussing in a Greek so fast he could barely understand.

And although he had never seen such thing closely before and should be a little awkward, so far from his own world of polite discussions, Camus couldn't help but laugh. He was discrete at first, but soon he could not control himself and laughed openly, which effectively brought attention to himself and put a stop to the Greek drama.

"What is it that you're laughing at?" Milo snapped at him, the grains of bread on the corners of his mouth preventing him from looking too scary in his fury.

"Milo, don't shout at Mr. Camus!" yelled his mother.

This time he rose before it could all start again.

"I am sorry, it was rude of me." He said, but with a smile still in place "It was very refreshing to see a real home with real warm blood people. But I do must head back now."

"Oh, but it's too late for you to drive back alone." Said Mama "Why don't you stay over until tomorrow morning? We all wake up really early, we could wake you."

"Thank you, but I still have some things to do at my house before tomorrow morning. And I should check on my stupid friend, to see if he has not hit anyone else with his car."

Even Kardia chuckled.

"Whatever. Stop by the market when you want to." And that was his 'good night' followed by Deathmask waving his head.

Milo's mother tried to persuade him still, but when she saw it was useless she gave him a basket full of apples and kissed his cheek. The little sister hugged his leg and thanked for the sandwich. The father resumed to a simple hand shake and wished him good luck.

"Come, I will walk you to your car." Milo smiled at him.

**There you go! I just love Kardia the Brute rsrs**

**I should hope that next chapter doesn't take long, it's nearly finished.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**seafox**


	4. Try to not daydream of peeled apples

**There you go, new chapter.**

**Degel is not quite how I like to describe him, but I need his interaction with Kardia to be as aggressive as the one between Camus and Milo can't be, to keep an interesting and funny balance.**

**Thank you for those who have reviewed. I hope you all enjoy.**

Chapter 4 – Try to not daydream of peeled apples

The next day met him up and ready for college as usual.

"Busy day, today?" asked his mother with a somewhat confused look on her face.

Camus was not known for waking up late, but that morning he had gotten up unusually early, even for his ever responsible and organized person.

"Not really." He said quietly, hiding a small smile behind the mug of coffee he had received from Natasha.

"Well, I am a little surprised, though." She said, setting the breakfast table "You came home very late last night. How did the celebration with your friends go?"

"I was not with them last night. At least, not all night." He answered, again trying to keep the happiness from his face.

"Oh?"

After effectively putting his expressionless mask on his face, he told his mother about Sargas "accident" and about how Camus had been kind enough to drive the market boy home. To avoid the prolongation of the 'market boy' topic, he conveniently left out the part about meeting Milo's family and cooking for them and learning about the job opportunity and then driving through town late at night before going home. And about dreaming of him, of course.

"That explains the fresh apples that appeared mysteriously in the kitchen." She said and looked as if she was about to say something, but she chose to smile instead "I am proud of your kindness, son."

Last night had been almost exhilarating, in a way he had never expected it to be when he arrived at the twin's house. Milo's smile was painted in his mind, constantly beaming through his thoughts, stubbornly bringing a smile into his own cold expression. Truth was that even though he had unexplainable good hopes about that job Kardia had told him about, he was much more excited about not only the possibility of seeing Milo today but with the prospect of working near him. He had no idea what it would be like to see that smile every day, but his heart was considerably warm to the idea.

The morning classes went incredibly slow, despite being practice classes instead of theory ones. When the last class finally ended, he rushed out of the building towards his car. He had been avoiding using his car the last weeks, to save money, but that day was a special occasion and he would not risk looking dusty to the restaurant's owner. If he was as snobbish as Kardia made him seem to be, he had to look good. (And if he got the chance to drive Milo somewhere, it was better not to waste it.)

Checking his cell phone for the first time since the day before, Camus found about three messages from Mu and one from Shaka, all of them asking – in general – where he was and why he had been hiding Milo from them. Sending a few generic answers to both, he went to the market.

As he walked through the busy and crowded street, he identified the apple stand on the same spot. His heartbeat accelerated at first, but when he found only Milo's mother and Deathmask it was like someone had taken the ground away from him. _Should I be this affected? I barely know him_.

"You're here! I didn't know you would come today." Said a blue haired head appearing in front of him.

Immediately, his heartbeat accelerated again. Briefly, before being sunken into the warm feeling of Milo's smile, Camus wondered if he could get ill from those feeling fluctuations.

"Today happened to be a good day." He offered him a small, simple smile of his own, knowing there was no way to compare Milo's bright person to his icy manners.

"You must be desperate for job, huh, rich boy?" said Kardia, arriving to stand behind Milo, who elbowed him slightly "Just give me a second to put on a shirt and I'll take you there."

Camus had been so engrossed into observing Milo that he had not noticed the older brother's lack of shirt. For a moment he studied Kardia's back as he walked towards the apple stand, a few meters ahead. The two brothers really looked alike, although Kardia was taller – both had tan skin and those exotic bluish strands. Looking at Kardia's exposed body, he wondered if Milo was also perfectly built like that. Had said person not coughed slightly by his side Camus would very much likely entered into delirious thoughts of a naked Milo at his bed. Not the kind of things he should have on his mind right before a job interview.

"Sorry about Kardia's manners." Milo said to him, but frowning to the direction his brother had gone to.

"It's all right. I suppose my friends would tell you I am no peach, either." He smirked and Milo laughed. He loved that sound. "Besides, he is helping me."

"Yeah, he is." Milo looked to the ground and said quietly "If I had known about that restaurant I would have told you."

Was Milo sad? Trying to decipher the sudden quietness on the Greek, Camus touched his right arm and smiled.

"I know. Thank you."

When Milo looked up again, their eyes met. It was like electricity, like strong water stream was running through both of them. Camus was not really sure what he was reading in Milo's stare, but it gave him some sort of hope. Not merely silly romantic hope, it went beyond that, it made him really – really – feel like things were going to work.

And he was not sure what Milo was reading in him, either, but he tried to send a message. Camus was an ice cube and that was common knowledge, usually it was people that tried to reach him, not the other way around, so he had no idea if his intentions were coming across. In truth, a more stubborn side of him didn't even know if he should send his intentions across; hell, how many times had he chosen to ignore that kind of feeling? There was something about Milo, though, so he made the effort. Because in Milo's eyes he could see that everything was going to be OK.

Later, the hopeful feeling remained. He was clueless as to why or how. Maybe it had to do with the fact that all the Greek family – including the Italian – had offered him support; although he had chosen not to acknowledge the notion for obvious reasons concerning his own family, the supportive and approving way Milo's father slapped him on the back had given an unexpected burst of pride, which was much more than the feel of obligation that his own father's nod usually gave him.

And, of course, maybe his optimism had everything to do with the fact that Milo had decided to walk with them to the restaurant.

It had been a funny scene, actually. Kardia had come back with a clean and aligned shirt, not social but not really sportive – or at least, as far from the dirty t-shirts he probably wore for his work of heavy lifting and fruit-dealing as you could get. And, surprise surprise, Deathmask came just after him with a similar style.

"What the hell are you two wearing?" Milo had shouted at him, which kind of served to express Camus' own surprised thoughts.

"I just thought I'd stay there and taste the rich kid's food again." Answered Kardia as if he was talking about going to get some ice cream "Mask here needs to stop by Albafica's store, anyway."

Milo's eyebrow rose suspiciously.

"Well, then I'm going too."

Camus would certainly have gasped had Kardia not beat him to it.

"Not dressed like that, you're not!"

"My clothes are perfectly fine, they're not even dirty!" Milo was scowling almost childishly now "And hadn't you said that the place was simple, that you had eaten there once? I'm sure you don't always carry your good shirt around for just lunch time during work days."

Kardia's face was a mix of rage and awkwardness. That was when Camus knew that the way he was dressed had nothing to do with tasting his food, but, seeing he was barely capable of reading Milo's expression sometimes, he decided that any further speculations about the older brother's behavior would be fruitless. And would have been interrupted, because before the older Greek had any chance to form an intelligible sentence Milo suddenly turned to him with a half pout on his lips, successfully blowing away many of his coherent thoughts.

"Do you think I'm not presentable to go there?"

Had it been any other person, Camus knew, the person would go away crying with the many possible answers he had. You see, he could have answered that as he had never been to the place, he had no way of telling what was appropriate. He could have said that usually French restaurants were visited by some pretty snobbish people. He could have even answered that he had an extra jacket in his car that he could lend him, if the other insisted.

However, when his eyes ran through Milo's body – perfection – the jeans and the white t-shirt were just about the prettiest clothes he had seen someone wear in his life. So, there they were, walking towards his job interview.

The Greek unstoppable chatter prevented him of putting too much thought into what he was about to do. This was probably for the best. He had no way of predicting what the owner would require of him to test his cooking abilities. And had not Camus made some in the least good sandwiches just last night without thinking about it? Maybe that was the secret. Not thinking.

Well, it just happened that not thinking was impossible in front of Degel Lefreve.

As they stopped in front of the place – a simple, old-styled house – Kardia indicated with his head a tall figure with long teal colored strands of hair talking with a woman in front of the large wooden doors.

The woman had long light purple hair and green eyes, her face remind him of someone he didn't quite know who. And when said woman gave her good-byes to the owner and crossed ways with them, she looked at him as if recognizing him sorts but also being unable to place his identity.

However, the puzzling moment was disturbed by an obnoxious Kardia.

"Hello, Ice Cube! I have a surprise for you."

From where he was standing, Camus saw the 'ice cube' look at them from above, his glasses shining white and hiding away his eyes. Instantly Camus knew that standing in front of him was a difficult person, one who would not let others read his eyes, at least not before he had made his own inquiring.

"I see no apples with you, therefore I see no reason why you should be here." Said a cold voice.

As the man was about to turn and go inside, however, Kardia spoke again.

"Cut the crap, Degel. I have a new chef for you. A good one."

That made the other stop midway, looking at them sideways. Eyes still hidden by his glasses, but a long eyebrow was raised at the Greek. Camus supposed that was his cue.

"Hm. I believe I can speak for myself, Kardia." He said calmly, maybe a little more cold than he intended, but he also supposed that being rude with Kardia would only get him some positive points. "Camus Antoine, un étudiant de quatrième année de la gastronomie. Nice, de vous répondre."

By his left side, Camus felt both Milo and Kardia shift with surprise at hearing him speak French. M. Lefreve, however, seemed to approve of his use of his native language, by the way his mouth line twitched upward for millisecond.

"I suppose you have already had classes with M. Remy?"

"Indeed. I may ask him some references, if you wish."

"There is no need. That I can arrange myself with a phone call to him." Degel said, walking down the steps and standing closer to him.

He was probably about Kardia's age, but he exhaled reason and logic, seeming more intelligent and wiser than someone on his age would be (e.g. Kardia). Even without being unable to see his eyes properly, Camus felt all the weight of his stare.

He was not intimidated, though. He was not unfamiliar with that kind of personality, having one himself, so he simple stood calm and unwavering under Degel evaluation.

"Have you specialized on something, yet?"

"No. I do tend, however, to a French style."

"Dinner?"

"Yes."

"Lunch?"

"Yes."

"Brunch?"

"Yes."

Camus had already answered all those questions on the last few weeks, just not in the middle of the street and not in such blunt way. If he had to be inquired just to set foot inside the restaurant, he could only imagine how restrictive the kitchen norms would be.

"Dessert?"

He was not sure why that question in specific caught him off guard, neither why Milo's sight had suddenly popped inside his mind, along with the apple pie he had baked for Hyoga's birthday.

"As off recently, yes."

Of course his queer answer would get a raised eyebrow, but the other French seemed more curious than disapproving, so Camus merely waited. And waited.

"I cannot hire you without tasting your food first." Degel finally said.

"Ah! Food tasting! That's exactly why I came here! So, if you don't mind, Ice Cube, I will make myself comfortable inside." Kardia interrupted suddenly.

Milo elbowed him on the side, but it wasn't enough to erase his confident grin. Not even Degel's despising face was enough to do that.

Camus was not sure if he did it for Milo, for try and thanking Milo's brother, or because he was simply impressed to Kardia's immunity to hell freezing stares. Fact was that he intervened.

"Their meal is on me." He said simply, effectively bringing back all the attention to him. Milo's mouth opened, and the Greek probably would have protested if Degel had not spoken first.

"Indeed it is." The restaurant owner said with a calm but somewhat commanding voice "You will cook their meal, and we will see if you're good enough to work here. They cannot choose, however. You will have to choose correctly for them. I will not have a chef who cannot even guess what is of the customer's taste."

With that, Degel turned and went in without a second glance. Camus took a deep breath and went in after him, feeling the looks from the Greek brothers on his back.

The kitchen was even more clean and organized than he had expected, a welcomed place to his anxiety. Nothing like a good and well kept kitchen to maintain his mind clear. That was it. That was his chance, he _had_ to work there, if not for his independence, at least to see Milo smile at him every day.

Degel stood at his side, watching his every move closely, certainly measuring and grading his actions. That was the hardest part, not even in college he had professors with that kind of personality, but Camus supposed he could manage that. All he had to do was to guess right. Even though it could seem advantageous that he had to guess right the taste of people who were cheering for him, Camus knew that if one of them faked their reactions the restaurant's owner would know. So he put on the apron and worked.

Kardia received beef with onions, both fried with olive oil and butter and seasoned with multiple spices and kinds of pepper. Hot and impulsive just like the brute. For dessert the Greek received on the table a passion fruit mousse with chocolate grains imitating the fruits seeds.

For Deathmask, Camus decided that the Italian was probably proud of his nationality but rarely got the chance to really eat proper Italian food. Being a French restaurant, he couldn't quite go crazy on the pasta, but he decided to be a little daring and combined both styles into a spaghetti with Camembert cheese. For dessert he settled for a mixture of fruits and whipped cream.

And Milo? He had to be more careful there, more for his own personal reasons than for the job. Camus chose something simple but that could provide some 'taste surprise' for his favorite Greek. Baked fish with almond sauce. Apparently simple, but the taste could remain on the tongue long enough for you to miss it when it's gone. And for dessert, apple pie of course. How could it be anything else?

Degel made him wait in the kitchen while his food was under probation. It was almost one full hour of silently leaning against the cold white wall before the older chef returned.

Once again he felt the analytical stare drive into him and take all of his self into consideration. Only after a few minutes his answer finally came.

"Well, you came here to work. You might as well start today. Start now and leave celebration with your market friends there for later." Degel said before putting an apron himself and heading for the knives.

And with that, Camus was hired.

The brothers had already left when he was finally allowed to leave the kitchen. He was tired, but he had never felt so content in his entire life. Camus felt relief. And, underneath it all, just waiting for him to have more energy, Camus felt joy. He had done it. He had gotten a job! He was finally beginning to gain his freedom. With time, if he could manage his money properly, maybe he would even be able to move out of his parents' house.

But that was for much later. He knew he had to gain Degel's trust, and that would only happen with time. For now, he would be content to not ask his parents for nothing. And, most of all, he would be more than content to get closer to Milo. They would work near each other now, if he had any luck he might even be able to see the Greek everyday.

Still a bit surprised with his unusual optimistic self, Camus walked to the street fair with multiple thoughts in his mind. Then he saw him. There, in all his – shirtless – glory was Milo carrying a large wooden box on his shoulder to a nearby truck.

Camus felt mesmerized as he observed with attention the way the tan skin rolled smoothly over the strong muscles, the way his long hair fell wildly upon his shoulders and torso, the way the jeans let out to sight a tiny piece of white on the side. Not for the first time, Camus wondered if Milo was proof that the Greek gods still walked the earth – he was not sure if he would be the God of Apples or the God of Lust, but somehow in his mind those were not so far from each other.

Taking a deep, long breath, he finally moved forward, heading to tell the Greek family the good news. From what he had observed of them, they would beam out all the happiness that he felt but couldn't express through his cold shell.

"Oh, Milo, look who is back! Is Camus!" said Mamma Helena opening an instantaneous smile. His father came right after her, with a smile too.

"So, how did it go?" Papa asked smiling, as if he already knew.

"I got the job." This time not even Camus could avoid an open smile. Saying it out loud made it seem so much better!

"Ah! I am happy for you! Good for you, son, good for you!" said Milo's father, soon proceeding to give him a hug.

Had Camus been a more sentimental person, he would have cried. That is not to say, however, that he was not touched by the gesture. He could not even remember the last time his own father had hugged him proudly, or the last time his own father had called him 'son', for that matter. Awkwardly, given his lack of practice, Camus hugged him back, trying to show that it was sincere even though he was not showing enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey you're back! How did it go? Kardia and I had to leave so mama and papa could eat their lunch, we couldn't wait, even though the food you sent was very very good. That guy really locked you in there! Did you get the job?"

At the endless sound of Milo's voice, Camus was released from the hug and was able to look at him. Sadly, he had his shirt back on, but the curiosity and excitement on his face were so endearing that Camus doubted he would notice if he had clothes or not – scratch that, of course he would, just not immediately.

So, keeping the same smile on his face, he answered.

"I did fine. Degel hired me."

Camus had already prepared for another rush of words, but he would never had been ready for what Milo did. Instead of saying anything, Milo's face brightened and he jumped on Camus, taking him in a tight embrace.

That was not the usual warm Greek embrace, not to him, anyway. Milo's arms around his neck and the feeling of him laughing happily against his body were something unique; it brought up feelings inside him that he had never felt in his whole life.

"I knew it! Congratulations, Camus!" Milo said relaxing his arms, but still keeping the French in the embrace "I am very happy for you."

And that was it. Camus could not hold anymore – did not want to hold anymore. Feeling his lungs with the air heavy with Milo's scent, he hugged him back. He hugged back as tight as he was being held, and in a moment of sudden burst of joyous energy, he lifted the Greek from the ground. Milo, surprised, laughed and Camus had to laugh together.

"Oh, please, not in the middle of the street!" he heard Kardia's voice on his back, so he let go of Milo and turned to the older brother.

Kardia was half glaring at him, as if warning him to not try anything funny with his little brother. Camus just smirked at him and rose his eyebrows, nothing could ruin his mood right now.

"So I take it you got the job, huh?" Kardia asked, the glare substituted by a smirk of his own "For a moment I thought the Ice Cube would scare you, but I guess you French are all like that. I hope—"

"Thank you, Kardia." Camus interrupted him, before the brute entered in another session of criticizing his new boss "You have no idea how this was important to me."

Kardia was clearly taken aback by the sincere tone in his voice, but he just shrugged after a moment, the smirk returning. "Just don't abuse my patience."

The look he got left pretty clear that Kardia already knew of his attentions towards Milo, and Camus was not really surprised that he already knew. Older brothers usually got that kind of thing faster than others, he remembered how he had similarly stared at Shun very seriously when he noticed the way he looked at Hyoga – of course, if there was someone who had needed warning, was Hyoga, but that was beside the point. Fact was that while Kardia was warning him, he was not prohibiting him, and Camus took some courage in that.

"Just ignore him." Said Milo, getting his attention back, apparently clueless about his brother's warning "We need to celebrate!"

"Milo, Camus has a family too and I'm sure he is eager to celebrate with them." His mother scolded.

_Wrong_. Either way, if Camus had any thread of intentions to share his success with his family, it was forgotten as soon as he saw the discrete pout in Milo's lips.

"I do need to stop by at my house, but I could go to your house later." He smiled to Milo, than turned to his mother "If it's not a bother, of course. I would not want to impose myself two nights in a row."

"Oh, nonsense boy. You will always be welcome to our home!" she said with a warm smile.

Noting how Mamma Helena referred to their house as 'home' while he thought of his own as merely his parents' house when talking to himself, Camus began to wonder if Milo was the only reason why he wanted to go there that night.

"But this time you are not cooking. You cooked for us last night and you cooked all day, today. We can't have you cook again. No, no. Tonight it's my time." She chuckled happily "I have my own kitchen skills. I'm no chef, of course, but my kids have never complained."

"All right then." He conceded, but soon added, remembering something "But I will take dessert."

Instantly Milo's eyes shone, and, understanding his mute question, Camus nodded to him. "I just need some of those apples you have here."

**So, how do you like it?**

**Thank you for reading!**

**seafox**


	5. The Orchard

**Chapter four is up. There are no "big events" in this one, it's more about Camus reflection on his family and friends, i suppose. It's purpose is to prepare the terrain for the following chapters.**

**Once again, thank you for all the reviews! I hope you enjoy.**

Chapter Four - The Orchard

When he got home that evening the first thing he saw was a blushing Hyoga, while Shun chuckled insanely of some private joke of which the center was doubtlessly his little brother. Something squeezed in his heart at the sight of the two teens, so young and yet so… tranquil at the security of each other. They were complete, and despite of what his mother would always say about them being too young to be so sure of their feelings, Camus knew that they had no need to try anything else and with anybody else. Hyoga and Shun were partners for life, for sure.

Even though Camus had never really paid attention to it before, now it made him only slightly envious. While he was happy that his brother would not grow into a grumpy adult like him, Camus wished he had met Milo sooner. The mere thought of the Greek warmed his inside and probed him to move along the rest of the day before he could go to his house later. He had to make dessert!

"Good evening, Camus." Shun smiled at him, both breaking his reverie and bringing Hyoga to his normal shade of skin color.

"Good evening, boys. How was school today?"

"Hyoga was lucky enough to gain the role of Swan Queen at the play we're going to have to perform." Shun answered and chuckled again and received a small smack at he head "What? Somebody had to tell your family."

"I see." Camus smirked "And what will your role be, Shun?"

"Oh, no acting for me. That is only for handsome guys like Hyoga and my brother. I will work on the scenarios." He smiled, quite happy that he would not have to dress like a girl.

"And how was your day, brother? I thought you would return after college." Hyoga asked him, surely trying to change the subject.

Then Camus smiled, probably startling the teens a bit with his good mood.

"I got a job!"

Instantly both boys' faces warmed with smiles and both opened their mouths to speak, but it was a serious and stern voice that spoke up behind him.

"A job? Where?" asked his father with his briefcase in one hand and keys in the other, recently arrived from work. His serious face was touched with surprise.

"At a French restaurant near the greek street market." He answered, calm with pride.

"Oh. Well, good work Camus." His father said, quickly hiding a hinge of disappointment before leaving the kitchen and proceeding for the stairs.

Camus watched him go with a grim expression on his face. Why the hell was he disappointed? Hadn't his eldest son just started getting independence, proven that he was good for something? Where did his father expect that he would work? In an international corporation or something like that?

Had he not promised Milo an apple pie, he would have left immediately.

"I think it's really cool you got a job, Camus." His brother said quietly, as familiar as him to his father's un-fatherly manners.

"It is!" Shun said, also familiar with having to cheer a son of M. Antoine "We could drop by someday after school."

"Is it expensive?" asked Hyoga.

"Well, it is not cheap, but it is not a place a teenager could afford every day." He answered, already turning for the sink to wash the apples.

"Unless you're rich like Saori." Hyoga commented "Maybe we could convince to go and pay for us."

"Hyoga!"

As the two half bickered and half chuckled, something clicked in his mind. Picking up his favorite knife to peel the apples, Camus spoke.

"Saori has an older sister, doesn't she?"

"Yup, Sasha the supermodel."

"Saw her today at the restaurant; she was leaving when I was arriving. She seemed to know the owner, M. Degel."

"She definitely has lots of money. Saori tells me she is always travelling around with body guards." Shun said as he stole a piece of apple. As he was being so nice, Camus decided to pretend he didn't see.

"Bodyguards? I haven't seen any at the restaurant when she was leaving."

"Better not to tell anyone about that, then. Seiya's older brother is nearly paranoid with her safety." Hyoga said.

"You mean Tenma? Never knew he could be paranoid with something." Camus rose an eyebrow at them. Tenma was older than Hyoga by a few years, at his first year of college, but he might as well be younger than Seiya.

"That's because he fancies her, according to Seiya, even though he keeps babbling about how Sasha is like a sister to him." Hyoga answered "It seems that he even keeps telling her bodyguards what to do. Pisses them off all day."

As he was about to comment, Camus's cell buzzed. He picked it up with one hand as he gathered other ingredients with the other. "Hm?"

"Oh, so now you're answering." Came Shaka's voice "Told you he had to stop by a kitchen sooner or later." The Indian seemed to tell someone on the other side of the line, probably Mu.

"Hello, Shaka." He smirked to himself. "And say hello to Mu, as well."

"Where have you been all day? Fanning over car accident boy?" at this moment he hear Mu stealing the phone "Got home late after driving Milo home? I text you the entire night and that's the answer I get? And why didn't you tell us about this Milo?"

"Because I was busy getting a job this afternoon."

That effectively made Mu shut up. For a few seconds, at least. Soon after he heard Mu bringing Shaka to hear on the phone as well and he was endlessly begged to tell the whole story. Feeling generous after everything, Camus decided to tell them almost everything. About how he drove Milo home, about how he made sandwiches for the whole family and about how Kardia told him about the restaurant. Camus even told them about how the Greek brothers and the Italian went with him and how he had to guess what would suit their taste. Then, as an afterthought, he explained briefly how nice the Greek family had been and that he would bring them a pie to show his appreciation. Pretty much, the only thing he did not tell was how Milo was effectively melting his cold self.

"OK, you're interested in this Milo-guy, we had already gathered as much from your attitude last night." Mu said faking dismissal "Although, I must say, there has to be something special about him, to make you go to such trouble to only thank his family."

Frowning at his friend's words, Camus remained quiet on the phone until one of them decided to speak again. It was Shaka who said something first.

"So, I assume that now your mood will return to normal."

"Maybe."

"Hnf. Either way, we will have to check this new job of yours someday, hm?"

"I've told where it is, all you have to do is stop by. I don't guarantee that I'll be able to see you, M. Degel seems to be very… strict."

"This M. Degel is future you, I'm assuming." Mu's voice came over and Camus smirked.

"Does he have freezing stares as well?" asked Shaka.

"Not that I've seen. His glasses do make him seem capable of, though." Camus answered "You'll have to check for yourselves. Pass on the news to the twins and tell when you can go."

"What are your shifts?"

"The restaurant opens from noon to seven pm."

"OK then, we'll let you know." Mu's voice came again "Now, onto more important things, Cam. Your birthday is next week! Do you have plans?"

"Not really, just thought I'd cook something at home…"

"No way. You will be cooking everyday now for work, you can't cook on your birthday as well." Said Mu "Lucky for you, I've got everything covered."

Something in his tone made Camus have a bad feeling "I hope you're not planning a big party, because you know I won't go." He said, supporting his cell with his shoulder as he used both hands to mix the ingredients.

"Of course not, who do you think I am?" Mu asked indignant "Saga? Kanon?"

"You _have_ been influenced by them on birthdays passed." He answered in a half-hearted accusing tone, remembering last year oh-so-fun party.

"True enough, but this year Shaka and I got them under control. We are planning something small, just for your family and close friends. Just so you know, Hyoga is my inside man, so don't even try to run away from our plans because we will know your every step."

Camus turned from the pan where he was mixing things and eyed Hyoga. His little brother smirked at him, obviously already informed of everything. Camus sighed.

"Just… nothing obnoxious, all right?"

"Sure thing. So, we've counted that there are about ten people to be invited. Well… should we increase the numbers? In case you want to invite someone, maybe your new co-workers and all."

Camus knew he should have noticed the suggestion on his friend's voice, however, he could not avoid remembering how he had invited Milo for his birthday. The Greek hadn't answered – or had avoided answering, if he had paid attention correctly – but hadn't said no, either. So, he answered, Milo's face under the dim road light painted on his mind.

"Maybe I'll bring some three other people." Camus guessed that the Greek would be more comfortable if he invited Aphrodite, who seemed to be a close friend of his. And seeing that Aphrodite was Deathmask's boyfriend… Should he invite Kardia, as well?

"Ahhh, so you _are_ thinking about inviting Market Boy, aren't you?" asked Shaka after leaving most of the talk for Mu during the last minutes "I told Mu last night. As soon as I saw you sitting by his side at the hospital I knew that he was going to be special for you."

"Haven't you got anything else to talk about other than my life?" Camus sighed, pissed that he was not able to glare at them through the phone; he could only hope his freezing tone of voice could send the message. Turning the oven on, he heard one them 'tsc' at his attitude.

"Oh, don't give me the I-am-the-Master-of-Ice chilling voice. It does not work so well through the phone." Said Shaka "It's not a bad thing, you know. To have someone special. Despite all your cold manners, we know that you like to have us as friends, and we also know that somewhere deep in that frozen heart of yours you want to have someone other than your friends."

"I don't know yet if that one is this person, Cam." Intervened Mu, using his calm voice "But I do know that after a few hours in his presence you regained your old form. You got a job and you were considerate enough to text us back this morning. So Shaka and I really think you should invite Market Boy."

After a few minutes of silence from both ends of the line, Camus sighed as he settled the dough in a pie dish. It was rare for him to be at a loss of words. There was only one thing he found himself able of answering.

"Stop calling him Market Boy. His name is Milo."

xxxxx

Some hours later Camus was contently driving his car towards the Greek family. His own mother had beamed at his success and pouted to no end when she discovered he would not spend the night with them to celebrate.

He felt slightly guilty that he was exchanging the celebration with his own for family for a celebration with Milo's. Both Hyoga and his mother had no fault of the aversion that M. Antoine caused in Camus these days, but in that moment, he needed warmth. Because, in the end, Hyoga had Shun and his mother… well, sadly as it was, she had his father. His mother was probably the only thing his father truly loved. And truth was that, Shaka and Mu were dangerously close of being right about the special person speech.

It was not that he missed anything. He had not known what to miss until he started paying attention to his surroundings. Until Milo fell out of nowhere into his life. It was just that… it seemed nice to look at your side and see something… something that was your own. Camus didn't know exactly how to describe it. He had never been good with feelings, to start with, and, well, there was no recipe he could simply follow.

He had a few examples, of course. Shaka and Mu, with their wise and calm love. Hyoga and Shun, with their delicate but strong feelings. And even the twins, with their passionate and intense relationship. But neither of those would ever be like him and Milo, if a 'him and Milo' would ever exist.

As Camus drove, a shadow of uncertainty crossed his mind (and maybe, just maybe, his heart). He was putting so much effort into that – even if uncontrolled and unintended effort – what clues did he have about Milo's feelings towards him, supposing they existed. The Greek was warm and easygoing; it was hard not to like him. Certainly there must be other people interested in him as well.

Strangely enough, it was Kardia who gave him hope. A jealous older brother like him would make sure to mention a boyfriend or a girlfriend just to make him back off. Not to mention that he would never have helped Camus if he thought Camus was bad for his little brother. That did not exclude the possibility of Milo being in love with other person, of course.

All doubt left him, though, when he parked his car in front of the simple house. Milo was there on the window, looking towards the road, and when saw Camus's car his face illuminated with one of those smiles. Again, he was filled with hope. As long as Milo kept giving him those smiles.

"So you were not the bastard's lawyer after all." Aphrodite smiled at him at some point during dinner "I'm sorry if I was rude to you, but those twins really got me angry. One drove over Milo-dear and the other kept worrying about money!"

"I completely understand. Saga and Kanon can be… very dislikable at a first moment." He answered "The other two, though, Mu and Shaka are really nice."

"Oh, I was about to ask you about them. A friend of mine was telling me about this blond guy with really long hair who dated a Tibetan with purple hair. Maybe you know him. Aioria. He has an older brother called Aioros."

Camus smirked. Aioria was the ex-boyfriend of Shaka and Mu from the past, it was how the two had met each other. He had not met the Greek in person, his brother was very gentle, though.

"I know his brother. Good lawyer, only fights for good causes. He went to college with the twins and I was always very happy to see how he could make Kanon shut up. I never met Aioria, though. How do you know him?"

"Aioria is a very good friend of mine!" Milo came and sat by his side "His family owns a mechanic's shop on the outskirts of town and we went to the same school when we were kids."

Making sure to store that curious information inside his mind, Camus nodded politely interested. How both Mu and Shaka from rich families had come to meet and date a boy from such origins was a mystery to him, and the fact that this guy a friend of Milo made him muse again about fate.

"And what did he say about my friends that picked your interest?" Camus gave a small smile at Aphrodite.

"Oh, I just wanted to know how they are. Aioria is always bragging about how they were the best sex he has ever had, separately of course, which is something he deeply regrets." Aphrodite answered as if it was no big deal.

Camus coughed on his juice, as he was a taking a sip when the nurse answered him. Sex was not the most common topic between he and his friends, and he most definitely was not expecting a stranger to talk about them in such terms. What had brought this Aioria in both Mu and Shaka's way indeed?

As he coughed and tried to hide the small blush he knew it was installing itself on his cheeks, Milo patted on his back and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about Aphrodite, there is no barrier between his mouth and his mind."

"What? I was curious, that's all. Blame Aioria!" Aphrodite said a bit indignant as Deathmask chuckled and hugged him from behind.

"You must be careful to not sound rude to the rich kid's ears, love." The Italian said.

Aphrodite snorted. "Sex is the most natural thing. If Mr. Camus here has never-"

Camus was saved from hearing the last part of the sentence by Mamma Helena, who brought them more food. He smiled with hidden gratitude to the woman, for more than one reason. Milo mouthed a silent 'sorry' at him when no one else was looking and Camus smiled at him too.

Dinner went without other embarrassing moments for him and it was a truly delightful time. He had a good conversation with Milo's father about what made their apples so good, he heard both Milo and his mother talk about Milo's childhood, and he of course learned the other nicknames Kardia had for his new boss Degel.

"How do you know him, anyway?" Camus asked.

"We provide them apples. Business relationship, you know? The Ice Cube pays good, at least." The brute answered with a shrug, but Camus' eyes detected something odd at his expression.

"You are very lucky that he still buys from us even with all your bickering." Deathmask offered.

"Oh, our apples are enough to put up Kardia." Mamma Helena said with a smile to her eldest son and it was then that Camus knew that there really was more to the story, because as soon as she said that the brute rolled his eyes and looked to the side, but remained strangely quiet. It was certainly not like Kardia at all to not cause an argument.

Later, when there was nothing left of the apple pie and people were already feeling very full and content, a peaceful form of silence installed itself in the house. Aphrodite and Deathmask left and Mamma Helena was making Kardia help her with the dishes. It was when Milo tugged at Camus's arm and indicated the door with his head.

Silently curious, Camus followed Milo through the orchard while the other chatted non-stopping about many things. The sound of his voice became a steady rhythm with the ocean breeze coming from somewhere, so, when the Greek went quiet, he looked at him puzzled.

"You know, you are so quiet I'm often under the impression that I bore you to no end." Milo grinned at him, but there was a little uncertainty in his eyes.

"Nonsense." He answered immediately, if there was someone who didn't bore him, it was certainly Milo "I am not that polite, really. If someone bores me, I ignore them."

Milo laughed. "You really seem like an ice cube, sometimes. No offence, of course. In the Greek summer ice cream is really good."

Camus smirked. "Except that I'm not sweet."

"And not bitter, either. Bittersweet, maybe. Bittersweet frozen yogurt!" he decided happily.

Camus snorted. "That is a bit long, don't you think? Either way, you're not one to talk, Mr. Apple."

"But I don't resemble apples."

_Oh, but really, you do_. Apple=Milo=Lust & Desire. The math was simple in Camus head, but the other didn't need to know that at the moment.

"But, seriously… if I upset you with my babble, just tell me to shut up, ok?"

Camus rolled his eyes. "Milo, relax." Then, after a thought occurred to his head, he added "You know, every time we've talked, I cooked something good. So, by all means, keep talking."

Milo laughed again and started poking his arm. "Then maybe I really am an apple, like the one who fell on Newton's head before he described gravity. I bump into you and you go genius in the kitchen!"

You see, he wasn't one to love physic and had never believed that Isaac Newton thought of gravity because an apple fell on his head, but on that moment Camus was feeling just like the arrogant genius should have felt. A red fruit fell on him and now he was having some sort of clarification. Perhaps not about the laws that ruled over the world, but maybe about how fast a heart can beat when you have a person with a name like _that_ smiling at you and staring right into your eyes.

"You do think highly of yourself, hm?" he smirked, taking pride in his ability to maintain control instead of simply jumping on Milo.

"Well, so do you, Mr. Penguin!" Milo smirked back "Besides, from what I've read, you are just like Newton, all bad mood and most definitely not a people's person."

"I fail to see, however, how calling me 'Mr. Penguin' fits in this conversation." Camus lifted his eyebrow at him, mused at the unexpected nickname.

Milo laughed. "I figured I had to give you some sort of pet name, and a penguin fits. Likes to live in the cold, elegant, and reasonably cute."

"Cute?" That was a first for him. Not counting his mother, he had never won cuteness contests.

Milo laughed again. "You should see your face!"

Suddenly blushing, Camus looked to the side, trying to act naturally, but was startled when Milo stopped in front of him with his head ducked to the side, looking at him with a grin. "See? Cute."

His eyes shone so bright and his hair fell so perfectly around his face and shoulders, that Camus could only think of one word to respond, and against his better judgment he spoke it out loud as he placed a rebel strand of blue hair behind Milo's ear.

"Beautiful."

During many nights after that one, Camus wondered what would have happened. Milo's face was surprised and the sudden intake of air told him that the Greek was really not expecting such compliment, his eyes glowed stronger, though and that filled the French with hope. He was very sure he would have leaned down to Milo's lips had they not been interrupted.

Kardia would never make things easy for him, though.

They were both startled by the rustling of leaves and when the older Greek suddenly appeared from behind a tree they nearly jumped.

"Well, well. Taking a walk, hm?" Kardia smirked "Be careful to not get lost little brother."

Milo rolled his eyes. "I know the orchard as well as you, Kardia."

"Whatever. It's late, we should all go to sleep. The day begins early for us." The brute said and then turned to Camus "Mamma said we can arrange a bed for you, so you don't need to drive all the way back."

His expression told Camus he was not approving of the idea, and besides the obvious positive points of sleeping in the same house as Milo, he almost accepted just to bugger Kardia. Strangely how the older Greek brought that side in him.

Camus was not stupid, though. He was very aware of what could have happened. He was even more aware of a quiet Milo by his side. He tried not to over-interpret what it could mean, after all, the Greek had not seemed so averse to what was going on – it never hurt to be careful, however, and Camus would not impose himself more than he already had.

"Well, thank her for me, but I will go home."

Kardia nodded at the same time Milo's head fell a bit, as if disappointed. That slight movement gave him some hope, but Camus would not let it go over his head.

He said his good-byes to both brothers and send his gratitude to their parents and went to his car. When he was opening the door, though, he heard Milo shout.

"See you tomorrow?"

Smiling with relief, Camus turned and nodded. "I'll make sure to stop by at the market sometime tomorrow."

And the following day as well, and probably the others.

**So, what's the verdict?**

**Thank you for reading!**

**seafox**


	6. The genius touches the apple at last

**Hello!**

**First I would like to reply one of the reviews =)**

**I know, every time I read the chapters again I say to myself: too many relatives, too many relatives! It happens that there are just sooo many characters that I like, so one of the ways to put them - even if briefly - on the same story was to turn them into family; and it's hard to resist when so many characters between both ages(between the two Athena's reincarnations I mean) are physically alike! Truth is that most of them probably won't get in the story, unless I write some kind of spin off (which I am very tempted to do with Kardia and Degel, by the way - sometimes I think more about their plot than about Camus and Milo xD) But I hope that this is not a problem for the story, if you think it is, please tell me!**

**Once again, thank you for all your reviews!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**...**

Chapter Five – The genius touches the apple at last

The week went on considerably uneventful, compared to the two days in which Camus had re-encountered Milo and thrown in the middle of the Greek family, getting his much hoped for job thanks to it.

As expected, he had no trouble at all taking both college and work at the restaurant. As also expected, Degel knew some of his professors and some of his professors knew of Degel – which not always meant both sides spoke good of each other and that served to only improve the opinion he had of his new boss. They both had glared to a good number of self centred chefs who thought they knew everything. The only surprise in that side of his life was when he discovered that his father knew Degel – and again, the disapproving look on his father face only fuelled his admiration for his boss. _Who knew I could be such rebel?_ Camus would think from time to time.

The Milo-part of his life, however, seemed to be going on a slow pace. Not that slow was bad. He just wished he could see him more. Everyday Camus would stop by at the apple stand. Either before or after work, he made a point of at least saying hello, but it was never more than a few minutes chat.

His ever- rational mind told him that it had only been a week since they met – _properly_ met, that is. Only a week since he had almost kissed Milo in the orchard. He could not expect he would gain warm hugs everyday, although the smiles did keep coming.

It was unnerving, really. It seemed that with each day that passed, they talked during less minutes – and it wasn't for lack of try. Either the market was too busy or Camus was on a tight schedule.

Only one week, he had to keep telling himself.

It was not for lack of opportunity either. Every day Camus passed by the market street, since it was the quickest way to the restaurant – even if he didn't want he would. And every day a truck full of fresh vegetables and fruits arrived at the restaurant. Can you guess who delivered it all? Not Milo, of course. Only plain, old, brute mannered Kardia, sometimes in company of Deathmask.

It was always the same. They would hear the truck's horn from the kitchen, Degel would sigh and leave to open the back gate. Soon after Camus would hear the obnoxious voice talking loudly and get glimpses of the Greek and the Italian taking the food to the pantry. Sometimes Kardia would get in the kitchen to say hello to him, but Camus suspected he did that only to annoy Degel, who took the rules of his kitchen very seriously.

There never was a message from Milo, though.

_What did you expect? That he would immediately fall in love with your eloquent conversation and seductive charm?_ He thought sarcastic to himself one day as he fried some steaks.

"Hm, M. Camus?"

Immediately hiding any sign of any emotion that could be seen at his face, he acknowledged Marin, one of the waitress that worked there.

"There is a girl sending her praises. She is asking if you would go to her table so she can compliment you herself. She is seated on table number three."

"Oh. Please tell her that I will be there in a moment."

"Of course, M. Camus."

Raising an eyebrow to the departing girl, Camus mused once again about how easily he had settled in that environment. There were three kitchen assistants (Misty, Yuzuriha and Mime), each with their own distinct personality but not specially interested in cooking – that was only a job for them. And there were two other nearly chefs, like him. Sisyphus, who was almost graduated, and Isaac, who had just started on gastronomy school. And there were two waitresses, Marin and Shina.

It did not matter, however, if all of them had been working there for a good while longer than him. They all treated him with great respect and even some level of deference. Sisyphus aside, they all called him Monsieur Camus. Monsieur. The same title they used when talking to Degel. Maybe it was because he was French too, or maybe it had to do with the way he scanned the kitchen looking for imperfections – just like Degel would, as Isaac had pointed out at his second day at work. Either way, within only three days, it seemed he was already second in command on that kitchen.

After guaranteeing that Isaac was holding the pan correctly, Camus removed his apron and went out to greet his happy customer. It was with surprise that he found Sasha Kido waiting for him on the table talking with Degel. Behind her, standing in the corner, were two men with black suits, one red headed and the other with blond kind of wild hair – clearly Tibetan, given his two identical dots on his forehead.

When he approached, Sasha smiled at him and Degel looked at him approvingly.

"Hello, M. Camus." The girl beamed at him "Your food is simply delicious!"

"Thank you, mademoiselle."

She smiled. "I must say I was dying to taste your food. My sister, Saori, is a good friend of your brother Hyoga and she is always bragging about how good the food is in your house."

Camus offered a small smile of his own, but truly hiding a smirk as he remembered wild teenagers fighting for the last pieces "You both are very kind."

"I was talking with Degel about an idea that I had. On the coming month my father's organization will be throwing a party, so I thought to hire his team to prepare the buffet." Sasha said turning to Degel.

"I am inclined to accept, Camus. But I would need the whole team." Degel told him "Will you be busy on the last night of next month?"

Of course he was. For appearances' sake, however, he pretended to give the matter some thought before he answered.

"Yes, I will."

"Oh, perfect!" Sasha clasped her hands "Saori and I will be delighted. And I am sure it will please my father as well."

At this moment, though, they heard a distant horn. Both he and Degel instantly knew what it was, but this time the older French couldn't simply leave.

"Will you please attend to it, Camus, while Mlle Sasha and I set some details on the buffet?"

For a moment, Camus thought Degel was a bit disappointed, but he nodded and left without letting on his impression of his boss' mood. Especially because that meant that he would be able to properly talk to the loud mouthed Greek. He was not exactly excited to exchange banter with Kardia, but who knew? Maybe that was his lucky day.

And it was. Camus could barely believe his eyes when saw a cascade of blue hair and tanned skin leaving the truck. The day suddenly became brighter when Milo looked up from the boxes and saw him, and smiled at him.

"Hello." He said simply, a little bit awed with the sudden upturn in his day.

"Hi! I called dibs on the truck today and thought I'd rid you of Kardia's presence." Milo grinned. Behind him Deathmask was already unloading the boxes from the truck.

"I take it he was not too happy with it." Camus smirked and pointed the way with his head.

Milo laughed as he followed him with a heavy wooden box in his hands. "He must be still complaining to Mamma! He kept saying he wanted to come piss of the owner."

Camus waved his head, a smirk on his face remembering the usual banter between the Greek and the French. Then, he opened the door for both men to pass with the food.

"Well, welcome to the pantry."

"Ah, so here is where you keep all the magic ingredients, heh?"

"Oh, no, the magic is in the kitchen."

"And in the hand that performs it." Milo grinned at him and… winked at him? A bit perplexed, Camus watched both men bringing everything in.

He told Marin to bring them both glasses of water and noticed how the girl watched almost hungrily at their muscular arms. Both Deathmask and Milo seemed oblivious to her brief but intense stare – one was engaged to a sexy nurse so no surprise there, but the Greek? Was he just distracted to his surroundings or he simply didn't care for what the girl thought of his looks? Either way, he could not really blame Marin. Camus just hoped that he was not so obvious in his stares, but how could he not look as he watched the throat movements as the Greek drank the liquid and a single drop fell from his mouth to run down his neck.

"Don't you have tables to attend to, Marin?" he raised an eyebrow at her, trying not to sound jealous or anything like that.

"Oh, of course, excuse me M. Camus." She blushed and left hurried, not without casting a last glance towards the reincarnated Lust God at the pantry.

"So, what did you do to get the truck to yourself today?" he asked Milo, more to make conversation and to forget of his lustful thoughts.

"Oh, I convinced Mamma, of course." He grinned "I was telling her that you had arrived earlier today because you left your car at home, then I asked her if I could stay with the truck to give you a ride home."

For a whole minute Camus felt himself get all warm inside as he watched Milo's face and as his words sank into him.

"You know… to thank you for when you gave _me_ a ride home from the hospital…" Milo's smile was not so certain now, probably misinterpreting his silence.

"You don't need to thank me for anything, Milo. I'm employed because of your family." Camus smiled back.

"Oh, well… but I would like to." The Greek responded, now seeming a bit shy and looking at the ground "If you don't mind riding home in a truck and…"

"Not at all." He assured Milo "If you don't mind waiting for the restaurant to close, I would love to ride home with you."

Still a bit incredulous with his luck, Camus watched marvelled how the tan face relaxed with a happy smile and how his eyes shone with content.

"I'll be waiting for you here on the street when you leave the restaurant this evening."

….

The afternoon couldn't have gone slower. With each dish that he made he grew more impatient towards the shift's end. The clock didn't seem to move!

Then, when time finally decided to flow, truth to his word, Milo was there waiting for him. The Greek was on the driver's seat, absorbed in reading a hard cover book that seemed really worn out. He approached slowly, not wanting to disturb the perfect scene, until he saw the title.

"Shakespeare?"

Startled, Milo looked up, but smiled when he saw who it was. "Good old Shakespeare play, the only way to finish a hard day of work."

"Well, I'm not really a man of plays, but this Englishman had some talent." Camus conceded as he climbed on the passenger seat.

Milo laughed "Ah, and the French admits!" then he picked a small black bag from somewhere and gave it to Camus "All right, shotgun, pick one that you like and let's see if you have some taste in music."

Quietly enjoying the challenge, Camus roamed through the bag and found various CDs of many musical styles. Briefly he wondered which would be Milo's favourite, he was, however, more curious about what the Greek would think of his taste. He was greatly pleased when he saw an approving smile when he chose a Leonard Cohen album.

"Figures." Milo chuckled quietly and Camus chose not to ask, he seemed to have passed the test.

They drove in silence after he gave Milo the headings. The sun was setting behind them and Camus couldn't feel more peaceful. Milo had _wanted_ to give him a ride, to spend time with him. That had to mean something. That's when he decided to bring up his birthday again.

When they arrived – too soon in his opinion – he saw Milo widen his eyes at his house.

"Wow, you live in a very beautiful house!"

"Thank you." He answered quietly, too transfixed with the beauty on his side, glowing under the twilight light.

Once again he lost himself in an admiring trance and only stopped when the object of his observations turned to look him in the eye.

"What?" Milo asked with a timid smile.

"My birthday is in two days. I would like you to come." Camus answered, never stopping looking at his beautiful face, even when said face turned to look at the ground.

"Hm, I don't know Camus… I don't think your friends would be comfortable with a poor guy around… I mean, I wouldn't even know what to talk about and…"

At that Camus chuckled, which made Milo look up.

"Somehow I don't think you're going to have problems with making conversation."

Seeing he had a point, Milo chuckled too, but still wasn't convinced. "Even so… I will be so out of place and—"

"Milo, please, come."

Maybe it was the sudden strain in his voice, which must have sounded nearly desperate, or maybe it was the fact the he brushed his hand over Milo's. The Greek looked in his eyes again, and Camus knew that he could not hold himself anymore. They were truly alone for the first time since leaving the hospital and he would not waste his chance. Milo had given him enough signs, hadn't he?

Slowly, he rose his hand to brush over Milo's cheeks until he reached the back of his neck and his fingers tangled in the middle of soft blue hair.

"Please." He whispered one more time before he brought their faces closer.

The initial touch was shy and almost non-existent, all the way their gazes remaining locked on each other's. When Milo sighed softly – his breath caressing Camus' skin – and closed his eyes, it was all the consent the French needed. Closing his eyes as well, he brought them together into a real kiss. Chaste at first, until one pair of lips – he was no sure whose – parted and the other followed.

A cool shiver ran through his spine when he felt Milo's tongue coyly moving against his lips, asking quietly for things to evolve. Camus gladly complied and soon things escalated into a new level.

The Greek brought his arms around his neck as he surrounded his waist, and Camus learned a new concept of proximity – which wasn't nearly enough for him. He wanted _more_ of Milo. More and more. It was oblivion. He had never experienced such a passionate kiss. So many things and feeling and images rushed through him that for a moment he was lost. The only thing that he knew for sure was the sensation of Milo's mouth moving against his.

He was not sure how long after they needed air bad enough that they needed to part. It was only a few inches, though. Their arms remained where they were and their foreheads supported each others. They were panting, bad.

"Okay, I'll come." Milo whispered after a while and Camus sighed content – relieved, awed, incredulous, nearly exploding. He simply pulled Milo into another breathtaking kiss.

….

How long did they stayed on the car like that? Kissing and caressing and simply hugging. Camus couldn't care less. Unfortunately Milo had to leave sometime, and when the stars were high on the sky they had to force themselves to let go of each other until the next day.

"When will I see you tomorrow?" Milo asked when Camus got out of the car and stopped by his window.

"Before work, after work. During work if you can call dibs on the truck again." He smirked and pulled Milo through the window for another kiss.

The Greek laughed and smirked at him. "Aren't you a hungry penguin?"

"Not my fault." Camus looked pointedly at him and smirked when he saw Milo trying to hide a blush on his tanned skin.

A few minutes later, when he got into the house in some sort of a trance, his mind heavy with the heavenly scent of Milo's hair, Camus was brought into reality by a cold voice.

"Why did you arrive late on a truck, and not on your car?"

Turning slowly, Camus found his family on the living room. Hyoga was reading, his mother had a cup of tea, and his father had a newspaper – and despite that fact that he had ushered the question, he was the only one who was not looking at him.

It happened that on that moment, Camus didn't care. Didn't care what his father thought of his career, or if they had seen him kissing Milo, or whatever. So he kept quiet until his father looked at him. Then Camus smiled.

"Because I was being happy, father."

**...**

**So, finally, huh? I couldn't delay their kiss anymore! I'm not entirely happy with how i described it, but I also want to save some for their other kissing scenes ;)**

**Thank you for reading!**

**seafox**


	7. The scientific community disagrees

**First, I would like to apologize for my delay. I was wrapped up in work, but more than that, I was struggling to write this chapter. It was the most difficult one so far and I am not completly satisfied with the result.**

**Thank you all for the reviews! I am posting two chapters to compensate my delay and I hope to get ahead with the story this week.**

**Please, enjoy =)**

**xxxx**

Chapter Seven – The Scientific Community disagrees

_Breathe_. Camus told himself. And as he obeyed his mind, once again he was filled with the heavenly scent of Milo's hair.

It was already considerably late at night. They were inside the truck – this time conveniently parked under a huge tree by they river, on their favourite spot in town. Milo was on his lap and his hands were nearly everywhere over Milo, wandering beneath his white shirt, sometimes caressing the whole of his back and sometimes brushing dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

The silence between them was addictive, because it meant intense kisses and a delicate – but constant – exchange of touches and caresses that Camus had never experienced before. The Greek's body was just as godly as he had pictured, and now that he had Milo in his arms, he had no idea how he would be able to simply go separate ways until the next day.

On one hand, it put him on edge. He was not used to be so… out of reason, out of control of his body and of his instincts. On the other hand, he had never felt so good in his life. A minute of kissing Milo topped over all the other memorable moments he had stored in mind.

When a tanned finger traced his neckline he breathed in again, and forced himself to open his eyes when he felt Milo pulling away a bit. And there were those orbs again, looking at him with some entrancing glow.

"What?" he asked quietly of a few moments of Milo staring at him.

Milo gave him a small smile. "Nothing. It just feels surreal, that's all."

Camus simply rose his eyebrow to show he had not understood and Milo chuckled.

"If someone had told me that someday I would have the most handsome Frenchman here between my legs inside my truck, I would certainly have laughed. You know, the first time we bumped into each other, I just couldn't stop looking at you. I followed you with my eyes until you left the market. And then, many days after, when you never returned I began to think I had dreamt the whole thing. I knew you were too handsome and elegant to be real."

Milo grinned a bit, then, before he went on. "When I woke up in the hospital and saw you, it took me a few moments to actually consider that I was not dreaming again."

Camus raised his hand and brushed it lightly against his cheek. "I wish I had returned to the market. I almost did, but problems kept me from doing it. Everything is fine now."

After a few moments of silence, a sudden anxiety took hold of Camus, but he kept it hidden. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Milo smiled shyly "It's just surreal, as I said. We are worlds apart, you know."

"We were. We are here now."

"We still are from different worlds. You have a bright future filled with opportunities ahead of you. I have an apple stand to look forward to. I don't think your family will be pleased with this."

"Milo—"

"I was very happy when we met again at the hospital, and I enjoyed so much you driving me home. During those moments in the car I had the opportunity to find out that you were not just good looks and that my expectation during the weeks before was not just about some faceless hot guy on the street. But I also found out how different our realities are. I wanted so much to get to know you and your life and get the chance to make you notice me the same way I had noticed you… but I knew there was no way a poor guy like me would ever get a chance with someone like you. After you left I told myself I would have to make do with a friendship at the most."

Camus was about to speak but Milo pressed two fingers against his lips. Camus kissed them lightly but allowed him to continue. It was not easy, though, as his insides were trembling. Had he know how Milo felt, he would have pulled him to a kiss that same night before he left. And now that non-sense of worlds apart! That was dangerous.

"But you came back the next day, and when I saw you looking at Kardia without his shirt I was so jealous! And you two had that… that banter thing that could develop into something later… and I couldn't bring myself to leave your side that day. And hugging you felt so natural! And I felt so special when you hugged only _me_ back…"

Milo was on non-stopping speak mode, Camus could tell, so he carefully took notes of all the things he wanted to comment. A part of him was getting warmer and warmer to learn those things, but he wanted to offer some comfort too.

"I was almost sure you were going to kiss me that night, in the orchard." Milo said quietly, looking at his hands, now resting on his lap "And while I wanted so bad to kiss you too, I was glad when Kardia showed up because then I could keep myself together. I still thought it was better if we remained just friends. All it took was a week, though, for me to realize that seeing you for just a few minutes a day wouldn't do. … I swear I had no second intention yesterday when I offered you a ride home, but when you kissed me… well, I cared for nothing else."

Camus waited a few minutes to make sure he was finished, then he caressed his cheeks again. "It was a good thing, then, that you drove me home. You had no idea, it was driving me crazy. _You_ were driving me crazy, mon chèr."

He felt Milo shiver at hearing the French words and when he sighed in a pleasant way, Camus had to smirk with pride. "Now, for the record: that day when I saw Kardia without his shirt, all I could think about was how would _you_ look without a shirt. I was lucky enough to have a glimpse of that later on the same day. And I certainly would have kissed you in the orchard, had not your brother arrived… and I could swear you were flirting with me."

Milo grinned in a guilty way. "I was. Although I kept telling to myself I shouldn't."

"I understand you are… apprehensive about my family. But you have nothing to worry about. I don't think anyone I know would be crazy enough to mistreat you, even if they don't know you they know me and how… I deal with things."

"You mean your freezing-with-the-eyes-thing? That is really cool. Not my way of approach things, though." Milo grinned, visibly more relaxed.

"And how do you approach things?" Camus smirked, already imagining.

"Oh, that depends of course. But there's usually a lot of loud voices and maybe some punches. Kardia and Deathmask can testify for that."

"I'm sure they can. It won't be necessary, though."

They looked at each other, and Camus felt himself relax when Milo took the initiative of pulling him into a kiss, it meant the non-sense had probably left his mind. Later, though, he decided to be sure.

"So, just to be clear, you want this, right? You want… us."

"Yes. How could I not?" Milo was serious when he answered, but his voice was sure. Whatever he thought about them being different, it didn't seem to be enough to wave his decision.

"Good." Was all that Camus said before kissing him again. This time was different, though.

Milo was more… intense. Camus felt a pair of hands roaming beneath his shirt while his bottom lip was sucked mercilessly. His mind was clouded by the feel of Milo all over him. Then he felt the Greek smirk against his mouth.

"You have no idea where you are getting yourself into, Frenchman."

Camus felt himself smirk back. "Ah… so there _will_ be some getting into, hm?"

Milo laughed appreciative of the innuendo in his voice. He threw his head back and Camus once again marvelled at how his blue hair moved with every movement of his head.

"Most definitely yes. But not until I decide if you are a good boy." Milo answered playfully, his cheery mood completely back "Now, I have a present for you. For your birthday."

"You didn't have to." Camus rolled his eyes "And it's only tomorrow."

"I know, but I wanted to give it to you today."

With this said, the Greek leaned down to the driver's seat to grab something beneath it and brought a medium sized package wrapped with red paper. It was a bit crumpled on the corners, from being carried in a bag.

"It's not exactly _new_. But it is my favourite." Milo said, this time a shy smile gracing his features. He offered the present to Camus but didn't release it immediately. "I want you to open it early in the morning, though, so it will be the first thing you read on your birthday."

Camus lifted one of his eyebrows but nodded nonetheless. Curiosity was killing him – well, it was clearly a book – but he wondered what was the meaning of that small ritual. But above all, he felt suddenly special that Milo wanted it to be the first thing he would read on his next day.

"Thank you, Milo."

"Thank me tomorrow." The Greek waved him "Will I see you before your party?"

"Of course, I'll stop by the market before work and before going back to my house."

Milo looked at him in doubt "So I will be formerly introduced to your friends." As if a thought suddenly occurred to him, he looked worried at Camus "How will you introduce me to them?"

"I just thought I'd say your name and let them draw the conclusions from our hands together."

When he saw Milo sigh with relief, Camus knew he had decided the right thing. From the earlier topic in their conversation he had guessed the Greek would not be too comfortable with titles yet, and he truly didn't need any. Camus knew what Milo was to him.

"So, besides the two couples I met at the hospital… Is there anyone else special I should be really nice to?"

Camus chuckled and smirked at him. "I think you'll like my little brother and his boyfriend. And there's Aldebaran, he used to work for my family when I was younger, he is a good friend of mine even though I don't have the chance to see him very often. I am sure you will like each other."

"What about—"

This time he pressed two fingers to Milo's lips. "Will you shut up now and kiss me before you have to go?"

The Greek laughed soundly, but complied with a happy grin on his face.

xxxxx

"So, Milo is coming." Mu said with a neutral tone behind his back.

Camus sighed. "I don't understand why you still try to be discrete."

"I'm sorry! I am so curious to meet him properly!" Mu stood and grinned happily.

Both Shaka and Camus rolled their eyes. The three of them were in his bedroom waiting while the guests didn't arrive. Distant sounds from the garden let them know that Hyoga and Shun were having fun with Kiki and the party decorations.

Camus had innocently arrived from work to find the whole decorated for the party and was immediately shoved under a shower to get ready.

"And the way you two were brought together… it's very exciting. You should have told us!"

"It really was a big coincidence." He conceded.

"No coincidence. Fate, my friend." Said Shaka, not as jumpy as his boyfriend but clearly satisfied with the situation "From all the people in town that Saga could run over… and exactly on the night we were going to meet him… You don't need to believe it, but you two were meant to meet."

Now Camus turned from the mirror to look at them. "Just don't start with this topic with him, ok? He is uncomfortable enough because of his origins and almost didn't come today. Be nice. And make sure Saga and Kanon don't do anything I might kill them later for."

Shaka smirked and Mu grinned excited. "Sure thing, Cam."

The couple got out of his room to see if everything was fine at the garden and he was left alone for a moment. Sighing, Camus let himself fall sitting on his bed, then his eyes fell upon the book on his table. Good thing there was no one else around, because he doubted that he could hide the blush that crept to his face.

As promised, he had opened Milo's present first thing in the morning, and what a surprise had been. The book was a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets, but it was Milo's words that made it special.

There was an inscription on the first page, where there was only the author's name.

_I know, I know, he is not French, but since you admitted he was good, I thought you should expand your admiration for him._

_Besides, there are a few words in here that I'd like to say to you someday… For now, I give you my wonderings, even though I don't write as beautifully as Mr. Shakespeare here._

_I don't quite know what this is, this that we have, but I already cherish as one of the most valuable things in my life. And I don't know if I'd dare to tell you this in person. You're important for me, Camus, truly. Maybe_—

"Camus! Your first guest is here!" Hyoga shouted from the hall, interrupting him.

Sighing, as if he had been on a trance, Camus closed the book and stood in a quick motion. His head was ringing, the rest of the message imprinted on his mind. He had no memory of feeling this warm just because of words.

_Except that they are not just words. They are his words_. And like everything that belonged to Milo, they got to him, they got him deep. It made him feel many things at the same time. Awkwardness was one of them, because he never thought he could awake feelings like those on someone else – especially someone like that Apple God. Happiness, obviously, went without saying. There was a bit of apprehension, too, but Camus supposed that was natural and that it only showed how intense his own feelings were, because he didn't want to hurt Milo.

He tried not to overthink it, though. At least, not at the moment, not when Milo was crossing the gate with a small smile and shy grace.

xxxxx

The first moment in which he put Milo and his father in front of each other, was the first moment in many years he felt treuly apprehensive of his father. He had hardened and learned to look at him on the same level, but Milo not only was already nervous with the whole situation but also was not used to that kind of confrontation. The things in his family were resolved with a lot of yelling, not with colder than absolute zero staring. And there was no way their joined hands would go unnoticed.

He saw that Hyoga was the first to see it, and both he and Shun smiled warmly at them and spoke kindly to Milo. And bless the gods for his mother's affectionate smile and warm manners. As usual, they were enough to disguise his father's common displeased face with everything that resembled how unconventional Camus' choices usually were.

Things went smoothly for the first half of the party.

Mu took for himself the role of making Milo comfortable and was excelling at it, Camus was relieved to see that the two of them were most likely becoming friends. Hyoga and Shun were being amazing too, each on his own way, making things easier for the Greek. A small joke about the decoration here, an honestly curious question there... And Milo… well, he was amazing, of course. As Camus had predicted, he had no problem to make conversation with anyone.

"He is completely different from you." Shaka said at some point in the night "And yet, now that I've seen him, I cannot imagine that you would date someone that was not like him."

Camus did not comment, but hid a smile by taking a sip of his drink "I'm glad that he is getting comfortable, he was very worried earlier."

"Well, that is understandable. His origin is clear and he kind of does stand out in the middle of this party. Can he read?"

"A lot. He knows more about literature than all of us, I guarantee. It's a waste that he can't go to college."

"His family can't afford it, I suppose."

"Kind of… sometimes I get the impression that if they stretched up a bit and if Milo got a scholarship, they could manage it. But they are a traditional Greek family and they want him to keep on the apple business."

"Considering your tone, you intend to change that."

"Well… I've had some ideas…"

When Camus didn't develop it, he heard Shaka chuckle and saw a smirk forming on the blonde's mouth.

"You always have ideas, my friend, and I am sure that they will work. What surprises me, though, is that I am sure you know that whatever you are thinking it would need a few years… You really are thinking in long terms with this Milo, aren't you?"

Once again, Camus hid his smile with his drink, but for some reason this time he didn't mind that Shaka saw it anyway.

Peace didn't last, though. Saga and Kanon arrived.

Camus was standing with Milo on a corner, his arm comfortably surrounding his waist while they exchanged light conversation. That's when he saw the two brothers coming in.

"You're late." Camus raised his eyebrow at them and the twins coughed.

"Sorry Cam, we got the time wrong." Saga explained.

"Yesss, and we ran into an aaassociate of ours." Kanon added and his sluggish voice gave away immediately that he was drunk.

Chosing to ignore the fact, Camus just rolled his eyes and squeezed Milo a bit. "You remember Milo, of course."

"Oh, yes, sure. Have you recovered all right?" Saga asked politely, although he was clearly embarrassed "Once again, I am sorry."

"Oh, it's ok, it was nothing serious. Glad to see you again, without a car." Milo grinned at him and extended his hand. Saga chuckled at the small joke and shook his hand.

"Oooh, he is so funny! If I knew market boys were this hi-hilarious I would have gotten one fooor myself." Kanon said behind a trumbling voice and a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with malice directed at Milo.

As Kanon laughed in his drunkness, Milo blushed deeply and Saga was even more embarrassed, looking around for help. Luckily, Mu was within earshot and got hold of the situation.

"Oh, no, you don't Kanon. You don't get drunk before one of my events!" he scowled at the twins "And you should keep him in check, shame on you Saga." Waving his head disapprovingly, he pulled Kanon by the arm "Come, let's sober you up."

When they were left alone, again, Camus immediately brought Milo closer. "I'm sorry for them."

"It's fine." He answered quietly, looking at the ground.

"Kanon is… more out of control, usually. Please don't mind his words." Camus said, bringing Milo's face up so he could look into his eyes "I will talk to him tomorrow, don't worry, I will not stand for you to be spoken to like that."

"No, you don't need—"

"Yes, I do. You're with me and Kanon will have to treat you kindly." He said firmly, to close the matter.

They looked at each other for a moment and Camus hoped he could transmit his feelings, he didn't want that come between them. It was only when Milo gave him a small but shining smile that he felt himself calmer.

"So… how did you like your present?" Milo asked.

Again, as the words came to his mind, Camus felt himself all warm and it took some effort to keep the blush from coming.

"I… enjoyed it, very much." He answered quietly, and smiled almost shyly at the Greek "It was the best present I ever got."

Now, there it was _the_ smile. The one that made everything brighter.

Camus should have known better, though. He should have known that things were going too fine and that Kanon would always do something stupid, _and_ that Milo would never react with tranquillity when offended. Even days later, he would feel guilty about not preventing that from happening.

Sometime later in the party, he was pulled by his mother so he could help her with replenishing the food tables. That was when he heard the loud voices, and one of them was doubtlessly Milo's.

Looking up, it took him a moment to find the exact location, but soon he noticed the spot where everyone was staring at. There they were, Milo and Kanon, shouting indistinctively. Both seemed to be worked up, although the latter had one of his cruel smiles on, meaning that he probably had the upper hand on whatever the fuss was about.

Sighing, already seeing the trouble this would cause for quite some time, Camus was quickly on his way to put them apart before things got more serious. It was with relief that he saw that Mu, Shaka and Saga were on their way to pull Kanon aside as well.

Fate was not on his side that night, though, because the worst thing that could happen did. His father got to them first, and now Camus was close enough to hear the uttered words.

"The two of you will stop immediately." His father said with his steel voice and it was enough to make both men shut up as well as the rest of the party. Now every single person was holding their breath to see what would happen.

"I will not have indignities my house. It troubles me, the way you behave Kanon. It is expected of a… under-classed like this man to cause scandals for no reason at all, but you are well borne and I am sure this is not the education your family gave you." Then he focused his eyes on Milo and even from where he was standing Camus could see the Greek shiver "As for you, I can understand that you have probably never been near quality things in your life and that my son took pity on a poor bastard like you, but simply because he decided to have fun with a market boy like you doesn't mean you can come into my house and cause havoc."

With each word his father said, Camus could feel a hammer on his head, strengthening the certainty two things inside him: the hate for the man who had raised him, and the pain to see Milo's eyes fill with tears.

"You are a black spot in this environment and if Camus had any sense in his head he would not have brought you here. Now you will keep to yourself and will not pollute this place any further with your rudeness."

It was Kanon who broke the tension. With a ragged laugh he spoke from his place, now getting support from a table.

"Ooooh, he cwrushed yooou, market boy. Cwrushed you good. I'd leave if I were you."

That was what Mio did, of course, suddenly sprinting into a dash, pushing Kanon aside in his rage and knocking down both the twins and the table in the process. Camus lost no time and ran after him.

"Milo! Milo, wait!" he shouted when they were on the street.

"Leave me alone!" he heard the shout muffled with tears ahead of him and that gave him strength to speed up and catch the Greek before he went too far.

"Milo, stop." He panted as he took Milo by the arm and pulled him close.

"I told you to leave me!" Milo pushed him and refused to stay on his arms, losing his balance and almost falling as he stepped back. There was hurt in his eyes and the tears fell freely down his face. That sight almost broke Camus's heart.

"Milo, I'm so—"

"I knew it! I knew this would happen!" Milo yelled interrupting him, his voice choked "This is no fairy tale, I knew that sooner or later someone from your circle would speak their mind about you being with me. Personally I'm glad that it was sooner rather than later!"

"Wha—"

"Let's face reality, Camus, it just won't happen. This was an illusion from the start! That drunk friend of yours to show me that. "

"What do you mean? What did Kanon say to you?" Camus asked, trying to keep his voice low and steady, to not fuel the Greek even more, but on the inside he was getting desperate. His brain was looking for quick solutions for the matter but he couldn't find anything that was immediate, all he could think about was punching Kanon, killing his father and embracing Milo – and none of that he was able to do at the moment.

"Bloody Kanon spoke some hard truths, that's all! He told me I could play Cinderella with you all I wanted, there would be no fairy godmother to make be your equal. He said I should enjoy all that you had for the moment because soon enough you would rationalize it all and do what you always do, send people away. That was when I told him to fuck off, and that was when he said he'd fuck me instead as soon as you were done with me!"

Milo waved his head violently, shaking hair and tears everywhere. "What kind of friend is that, Camus? Not even Aphrodite's perverted mind would say such a thing! And then there is your father, that settled for just humiliating me!"

Camus was not desperate now, he was angry. He was mad as he had no memory of ever being. Both Kanon and his father, those were two people he would cut from his life. How dared they? Fuck Milo? The damned bastard must be truly out of his senses to say such a thing to one that Camus was dating.

"I understand you, Milo. You got every right to be mad—"

"Mad? I'm not mad, I'm furious! I could kill someone right now! You're a bastard, do you know that?"

"Me?" What the hell was Milo saying?

"Yes! It's your entire fault! You left me alone there in the middle of those people! How could you? You knew I was afraid and yet you left me alone!" the tears on Milo's eyes continued to fall, but now there was more than sadness there, there were a mix of other bad feelings too and they were now directed at Camus for sure "Maybe your dear friend Kanon was right, huh! Maybe you are so cold inside that you have no idea what it's like to feel humiliated and doesn't care for what people around you feel!"

"Milo, shut… up." Camus heard himself say, his voice slow and freezing. What nonsense was that now? Was the Greek crazy? How could he say that Camus did not care for him? "You must be drunk as well."

"Oh, yeah, blame it on the alcohol! That's what rich people do, right? Since they are soooo high borne it is impossible for them to lose their temper unless they are filled with booze! Well, I got news for you, I am really really really mad and I don't need alcohol for that!"

Milo started to pace, then, clearly not looking where he was going. And before he had realized, Camus was doing the same. He was lost with the whole situation and angry even with Milo now, for implying that all the drunken gibberish of Kanon could be true. Granted, he was not the most expressive of people, but hadn't he been clear that he wanted Milo?

"It was mistake coming here tonight…" Milo uttered through his teeth.

"Either way, you're being stupid and totally out of control, no wonder my father got such a wrong impression."

The moment the words left his mouth, Camus knew he had made a mistake and it would be very hard to take it back. Surely there would be no way to appease Milo now. The way the Greek looked at him held many feelings – disappointment standing out among them, but quickly substituted by mad rage.

"You know what? It was not only tonight. This whole things was a mistake! YOU was a mistake! You're just like the rest of them, aren't you? I see that, now. YOU ARE JUST LIKE YOUR DAMN FATHER!" Milo yelled "I hope that you don't ever have children, so there aren't more heartless people charming people around only to hurt them later!"

"I'm sorry, that.. that was not what I meant."

"I HIGLY DOUBT THAT!" Milo shouted with all of his lungs "Go away, Camus. We are joke, even if you can't see it now. If we take this forward there will come a day when my rudeness will bore you or embarrass you in front of important people and you will hate me for that. You already think that, I'm sure you do. And I am like this, the way you're seeing it now! Stupid and out of control and if you're going to be so worried about what your father thinks of me than I don't want to be with you! So just go away and do not leave a trace. I don't want a trace of you in my life. You are a cold bastard and on your way to become like your father. So just go! How could I be so blind? Go! GO! I DON'T WANT YOU IN MY LIFE!"

Camus had been ready to ask forgiveness, because while he was indeed a cold person, he was not especially proud, and he needed to apologize to Milo. It was all gone now, though.

With each shouted word he could feel his insides closing for the word. His mind, usually so logic and full of possible solutions and correct words for the correct moments, became suddenly invaded by some unfamiliar hatred that eliminated all thought of him. His heart was out of compass and he was sure that most of his body was not functioning properly.

Very well, if Milo was so ready to believe such things of him and so eager for his absence, that was what he would give him. Deep down, beneath all the turmoil that had been installed inside him, he still could remember the string feelings he had for the Greek, but right now he felt that if he stayed a minute longer near him, he would do something he regretted later.

"If that is your wish." He heard himself say, as if it was not in his body. His voice sounded colder than usual, but remembering everything Milo had said, he didn't care.

"YES! THAT IS WHAT I BLOODY WISH!"

No more words were spoken. Camus turned and left. And he walked. Walked the entire night and yet he couldn't bring his heart to stop hurting.

**xxxxx**

**Well, you saw it coming, didn't you? You knew there was problem ahead...**

**Next chapter is Milo's POV because some of you have asked =)**

**Thank you for reading.**

**seafox**


	8. The genius without reason

**And here we are, two chapters on a row so you can forgive me =)**

**This time I'm giving you Milo's point of view a few days after the party, and maybe - just maybe - I'll keep like this until the rest of the story. I'm still considering.**

**Please enjoy.**

**xxxx**

Chapter Eight - The Genius Without Reason

_Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!_

Not that thinking it repeatedly would help, but punching the pillow wasn't doing any good either.

_Bloody rich penguin and his bloody family!_

To say that Milo was mad was an understatement. He was furious. He was seeing red all over and more than once he considered picking a fight with Kardia just so he could _punch_ someone.

_If only the bastard would be around when you need him!_

His older brother had spent the night out without giving words of his whereabouts, as he sometimes did. Kardia would always return before the sunrise, though, so Mamma and Papa couldn't find out. Not that there was any use in trying to fool Mamma, she was aware of every breathing soul in the house and could always tell who was not there. Most likely, she pretended to not know so Kardia's pride would remain untouched – that was what Milo thought, anyway.

The bastard's escapes were getting more frequent, though, and had not Milo been so busy with his own infuriating misery he would surely make the effort to find out what his brother did when he was out.

He was still not sure, however, if he would tell Kardia about his situation with Camus. His older brother was over-protective and even more aggressive than he was, and even though Milo wanted bad to hit the French he most definitely didn't want him dead. Or Kardia in the prison, for that matter.

Truth to be told, he had started, hadn't he? He should have kept his temper and left the twins' presence. And really, Milo _swore_, he was ready to apologize to everyone and even be on his knees if necessary. But he had not anticipated Camus' reaction. Sure, he shouldn't have yelled all those things on the streets – especially because most of them had no true meaning at all – but what kind of person simply cut you from his life and leaves no room for forgiveness?

Even now, five days later, the sight of Camus' eyes growing colder with each word that left Milo's mouth… the sight of Camus cold hatred slowly turning to cold indifference… it was not something he could forget. It was imprinted on his mind and every time he closed his eyes he saw the crushing image of the French turning and leaving without looking back.

So now, Milo was complete mess. He was heartbroken from Camus' behavior. He was angry at himself for being too impulsive and unable to control his emotions – both the bad and the good. While he regretted his attitude on that night, he blamed himself for letting it all happen. If he had been in perfect control of his feelings, he would not have kissed Camus.

_Ha! As if…_

OK, maybe he was in agreement that it was better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all. Milo was pretty sure he would have gone crazy if he had not gone to deliver the food at the restaurant… he had been nearly obsessed with seeing more of Camus. And he still was, if he decided to be honest with himself.

It was already bad enough that things had escalated so quickly between them after his car accident. One day Camus was meeting his family and seven days later his body was turning into fire at the mere touch of that pale skin. Even though he had had his reservations and fears about the whole thing, he knew he would make the same choice again if he was given the opportunity, even if he knew how bad things were going to get later.

Milo had ached before and still was now. And not seeing Camus was _killing_ him.

Despite of all the harsh measures he could picture himself taking to just hurt the bloody penguin, he wanted to hug him and kiss him and never let him go again. Because, really, he had fallen in love with Camus and there was no way back now.

Xxxxx

"Your face looks like a cadaver's and you expect me to believe you're fine?" Kardia looked at him skeptically later that day during lunch, when they were alone behind the truck.

"You clearly haven't slept either and I am not asking questions." Milo was so not in the mood for sharing his feelings that moment.

His brother had returned just before the sun came up and seemed more quiet than usual, but seeing his mood was not better he decided it was for the best to let it go.

Kardia clearly thought different, though.

"It has something to do with the rich boy, hasn't he?" he asked suddenly.

_Obviously._ "No. I told you I'm fine."

"If he did something to you I will rip his lungs out!"

"Kardia, stop!"

"Well, what do you expect me to think? He hasn't come over for a week now and you are all cranky and mopey."

"Well, I miss him! Sue me!"

OK, that was not supposed to get out of his mouth. Now Kardia was staring intently at him.

"I knew it, I knew you knuckle head would fall for Mr. Expensive Pants."

Milo sighed, but Kardia continued. "I saw the way you looked at him. There is no fooling your big brother. But if that is your only problem you should just go and talk to him. Not that I recommend… I don't think you should get involved with people like him, truly. But if you're gonna be miserable like that just because you're not seeing him… You should just go and tell him how you feel."

Staring wide eyed at his probably delusional brother, Milo wondered if that was really Kardia talking. "What? Kardia, what the hell are you—"

"I saw the way he was looking at you too." Kardia's voice was more serious now "And I see that he is not OK, either."

"How do you know that?"

"In case you have forgotten, I see him every day when I deliver the food at the restaurant. And I tell you, he is… weird. His eyes are stonier and his demeanor more closed."

As sting of jealousy made its way through his heart at the realization that indeed Kardia got to see Camus every day, Milo also had to deal with the fact that it was his fault the French was like that. They hadn't know each other for long, but he was pretty sure Camus was the kind of people that only opened to someone in very rare occasions, and now that he had been disappointed he most likely would get colder than before, with everyone.

"Look, you don't have to tell me what is going on between you two. And if you would take my advice, I would tell you to stay away from him. You two are too different from each other." Kardia began and the tone in his voice made Milo look up at him "But if you really like him and would take another advice, you should simply act. He is of the type who _thinks_, to get to him you have to make him _feel_."

Half amazed that he was getting love council from Kardia, a sudden fury rose in him. After all that happened, he really didn't need to hear what he should and should not do with regard to Camus. He had made him feel and he had lost him, because of his own stupidity! And all that thing of Kardia seeing the other every day and apparently knowing so well what to do about him was getting to his head. Choosing to discount it all at his brother, Milo snapped.

"And what do you know about his type? Are you interested in him? Tell me!" he yelled, not caring if their parents heard "You don't really think a brute like you could ever make someone like him fall for you, do you? You barely know how to read!"

Milo could be very cruel and he was ready for a fight, he was in _need_ of a fight. Verbal, physical, it didn't matter really. But apparently Kardia had chosen that day to surprise him. Instead of punching him in the face, his brother simply looked at him with something close to murder in his eyes and uttered a few words through his teeth.

"You know nothing."

Kardia left. Not in the sense that he just walked away. He really left. He stood up and left without speaking to anyone and didn't return for work.

Guilt consumed Milo for the rest of the day. Every time either Mamma or Papa asked of Kardia he shrugged and looked away. He had no idea what it was exactly that he had said that had gotten to his brother, but something clearly had. He would be sure to apologize later – even though it would be some time until he was forgiven, if he knew Kardia.

All thoughts of everything left his mind, though, when realization of a fact dawned upon him as he father gave him the key to the truck.

"Since Kardia is not around, you take the food to the restaurant. I need Deathmask to pick a few things so you'll have to go alone today." Said Papa "I'm sure you must be missing your friend, so there's no need to rush. Things are calm around here."

Milo had not had the heart to tell his parents that he and Camus had broken up. Nor that they had started, for that matter. And he was very grateful that his mother had pretended to not know anything. But Papa was oblivious to everything, so he just nodded and swallowed his anxiety.

That was what Milo wanted, deep down. An excuse to see Camus. He was just not sure if he was ready to face the indifference on those eyes again… he didn't know what he would do if the French ignored him.

Dreading every moment of the way, Milo parked the truck and took big breaths before he allowed himself even to look up at the restaurant's back door. It looked the same building, but at the same time it seemed the most impenetrable place in the universe, simply because he knew of the cold chef that worked there.

_Well, no turn around now. Never been a coward, and I won't start now._

Easier said than done, of course. Whoever thought themselves brave and bold never had to look into that bloody French eyes, no doubt. But Milo had. And he had survived, hadn't he?

_Barely._ He thought grimly to himself as once again he acknowledged the aching of his heart.

He horned, as usual, and went to start unloading the truck and make a pile with the wooden boxes. When he looked up, however, there was no one there. Which was strange… normally the owner would come out and receive and pay them, sometimes he would send Camus instead. No one came, although the restaurant was clearly open.

_Great! Just what I needed, to barge in the kitchen because neither of the Frenchmen will come out. _

That had to be his lucky day. He could only imagine how incredibly happy Camus would be to see him invade his place of work after all that had happened.

Taking more breaths than probably were good for his clarity of mind, Milo took the steps through the small stony stairway and found the back door open. When he entered he saw two men in black suits on the corner.

Both eyed him with suspicion. As if wearing those black suits in the Greek summer was the most normal thing in the world. The red headed seemed eager to engage a question, but the blond with the dots on the forehead – which, by the way, reminded him of someone – seemed to be in control. So Milo took the opportunity to show that he was not a threat to whatever they were guarding.

"Hm, excuse me. I came to deliver food for the restaurant. Would you happen to know where the owner is?" he asked trying to sound normal, even though his heart was forcing away his second question "Or C… the other… main chef, he can deal with this too."

_Even though he might not want to…_

The red haired seemed to think of an answer but chose to shrug instead. The other looked at him from head to toe before he answered cautiously.

"I am aware that M. Degel had to leave to take care of something. And M. Camus is busy at the moment."

Trying not to shiver at the sound of _Monsieur_ Camus name, Milo nodded. "OK, I think I'll just wait outside then."

The blond nodded in return and Milo could feel two pair of eyes on his neck as he got out. When he finally sat on the driver's seat he realized he had been holding his breath. No Degel, only Camus, which meant there was no escape.

For a moment he considered not delivering today's cargo, but he was too conscious of his family financial needs, so he stayed. And before he could notice, Milo was engaging into a thousand possible scenarios that could develop from their confrontation – his fertile imagination produced images ranging from Camus revealing himself an Ice Wizard and freezing him to death to Camus throwing him against the nearest wall to kiss him madly (and that was the best case scenario, in case you were wondering).

Until he heard voices coming of the restaurant.

First came out the two MIB agents he had talked to. They looked alert to everything on the street, including Milo and his truck, as if he could represent some serious menace. Then came out Camus, suddenly turning the world both more beautiful and frightening with his strong cold presence. And _then_ came out the creature that made Milo consume himself in jealousy.

A tall beautiful purple haired girl – that same purple haired girl he had seen talking to the owner when they brought Camus to the interview. She was laughing happily and speaking excitedly to the French. And Camus was smiling back!

Gripping tightly the wheel, Milo watched as the French walked the girl to the street and spoke kindly to her. He was not close enough to hear what they were saying, but the girl seemed delighted with whatever the chef was speaking to her. It took all of his self-control to prevent himself of doing something against the damned girl when she touched Camus' arm to say good bye.

Oh, Milo knew that move well enough. He had used it himself once or twice to see if Camus would react to his touch. Not that the French had shown any reaction to the girl, but that didn't really say something given the mysterious nature of that bloody penguin.

It took him a few moments to notice that he was being watched.

There, right across the street, stood Camus, tall and waiting and as serious as if his face was an iron mask. Swallowing, Milo stepped out, seeing that there was no other way now. A million things crossed his mind. Like the way there were lines under the French eyes – and if Camus would notice the ones beneath his own and see that Milo was not sleeping fine. Like how much he wanted to release the midnight strands that were tied in a knot – and if Camus would ever stroke his hair with those delicate and talented hands of his. Like how much that whole situation was just _wrong_ – and if Camus thought the same as he, or he if he thought of Milo at all during the last days.

"Hi… Kardia couldn't, well, _didn't_ come. So I came instead." He said quietly, looking more to his feet than to the man in front of him.

"You know where to put the boxes." Was the answer, detached from any hint of emotion that Camus could have.

Flinching, Milo nodded and proceeded to his work.

It was not easy. Camus, for some unknown – and sadistic, he supposed – reason, watched him from the kitchen door the whole time. He could feel that penetrant eyes accompanying his every move, and more than once Milo had the urge to either runway or confront the French.

Only when he was finished, though, he was able to show some reaction. He was about to turn to Camus to receive the payment when he saw the purple haired girl coming in, panting slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Camus, I forgot to give you this." She smiled at him and gave him a small white envelope "The address is in there."

"Thank you, Mlle Sasha." He took the envelope and smiled in return.

"And once again, thank you for the marvelous food. I sure hope to eat that apple pie again."

Well, that was it.

Milo could take cold hatred, could take indifference, and could even take Camus becoming a Wizard of Ice. But he most definitely _could not_ take other people eating his apple pie. Especially clearly spoiled, purple haired girls who thought they could win the world with their cute smiles and bodyguards dressed like the Men in Black.

Milo – and Milo alone – had been the inspiration for the apple pie, and he would not stand for other people requesting that of Camus as if it was a cheap dessert.

As soon as the girl retreated and Camus turned again to him, Milo crossed his arms and nearly snorted.

"Who was that?"

"Mlle Sasha Kido, one of our best customers." Camus raised an eyebrow at him.

"And that gives her the right to ask for apple pie and have private conversations with the chef, I suppose." He knew his voice was dripping with venomous jealousy, but he didn't care. It didn't matter they had broken up a week ago, Camus was _his_.

"It sure doesn't give you the right to talk of such things." The French answered coldly.

Had it been ten minutes earlier that would probably have been enough to send Milo away, but he was in rage mode now, and Camus would have to do better than a simple chilling stare to make him leave without an explanation.

"Those were my apples!" he said, for lack of a better response. Milo was not thinking straight, he was divided into the ache of kissing Camus and yelling at him because he had baked the damned pie to someone else "That was my pie!"

He was painfully aware that his voice was suddenly ragged and that his throat was tight, but he went on anyway "Just because I was stupid doesn't mean you can bake my pie to anyone." The tears started to accumulate on the corner of his eyes, all the emotion of his feelings towards that man were coming out now, and yet that was all he could say at the moment. "That was my pie."

OK, Camus could do better than a chilling stare. He could be dead silent. And when he got no response, Milo left. He only went as far as the truck, but it was hard to cry like that in front of Camus. Once again, he was angry at himself for being stupid, angry at Camus for being so damn cold, and angry at life that had put them in that complicated situation. So Milo cried. And hit the wheels a few times for good measure.

When he heard the passenger seat door open and close, though, he looked up. There was Camus, with his white uniform and midnight blue hair loose at last covering part of his face and contrasting with his pale skin. He was staring ahead – or seemed to be staring anywhere but Milo.

"It should not have been like this." The French said at last.

Milo couldn't agree more. They should have been making out in the pantry and making promises of what they'd do later after work, not having awkward moments like that. Afraid of getting the wrong meaning of that sentence, though, he simply waited for the other to go on.

"You have no idea how mad I am at you, right now. Not mad as I was that night, but still mad enough that I don't want to see you right now."

At first he considered if that was not a joke. Milo couldn't imagine how someone could claim to be mad and yet be in so control of their movements and expressions. He figured only Camus could do such a thing, and pain seared through his heart. His presence was not welcome.

_What the hell are you doing here, then?_ He wanted to shout, but the French's next word kept him quiet on his spot.

"But you defy all logic, Milo. When it comes to you, reason sometimes becomes something strange." Then Camus looked at him from the corner of his eyes, and Milo felt his heart racing "Scratch that. Not just sometimes. All the time. All the time I'm near you. Or far from you."

Now Camus looked ahead again, as if avoiding looking him in the eyes. But Milo was probably imagining things, right? Camus could hold himself in any situation, couldn't he?

"I spent the whole week angry at you, and yet, all I could bake were apple pies."

It was as if the day had started again, when Milo registered the words. It was as if hope was making the sun rise again, casting light and expectation over what was to come.

"I believe I was this close to being fired today. Luckily, though, Mlle Sasha appreciated the pie and some emergency came up that Degel had to attend to."

Milo was about to speak, but Camus beat him to it. There was an accusatory tone in his voice now that casted shadows over his second rising sun.

"I started to think that you were right in at least one thing that night, that we just can't be, because we are worlds apart. And truth is Milo, that you don't know me. You judged me for my money and family, and yet you have no idea of what I go through in my house. Do you know that my father despises what I do and the choices I made? That is why I wanted a job, so I wouldn't need his money to survive. You say you have a hard life… well, at least your father loves you. You can't imagine how difficult it is for me and my brother to get a single approving glance from him… and that's when he is sober. When he drinks more than he should… well, it gets worse."

"And how the hell I was supposed to know that? You never told me anything, you bastard. I always poured my thoughts for you, and you always kept yours to yourself!" Milo interrupted him, unable to keep quiet while the steady heavy accented voice spoke. The anger and heartbreak was forgotten the moment he noticed the hurt tone under the accusing one on Camus' voice "I knew you felt comfortable with my family, you just never told me why. If I had known I would have bugged you until you left your house and came to live with us."

"No need for that. I already left." Camus said quietly.

"What?"

"The next day I couldn't hold anymore. After our fight I roamed through the city the entire night, but when I went home in the morning and saw his face I had to confront him. Even though I was angry with you, I was hating him for what he had done to you. And I suppose you warmed my blood enough that night to still have the voice to fight some more. So I confronted my father. And I left home before he could have the pleasure to send me away. I am living with Shaka for the moment, until I can live on my own."

Milo wanted nothing more than to ask him when Camus was going to come and live with him, but his instincts told him that that was not the other had in mind for the moment. All that he had been told, though, still kept his hopes up that there might still be a chance for them.

"So, now, Milo, I am left with only one problem. I am mad at you and don't want to see you, but can't get you out of my mind. As I said, I started to think you were right."

"And what do you think now?" Milo heard himself say, his voice small with reluctant expectation.

"I think that we both had our share of faults. While I am still positively angry with all that you yelled at me, I know I should have told you more about my situation with my family. And to be quite honest, I am going crazy. I even wondered if you had poisoned me to make me miss you this bad. We were barely together for three days!"

All the things Camus was saying held a big contrast with the calm and steadiness of his voice, but Milo was beginning to understand that acting that way was how the French dealt with things. Trying to rationalize it all – which was why he had problem with that in the first place, feelings were not rational – was Camus method for dealing with the things that were out of his control. He held his tongue, though, that was obviously not the best moment to point out fingers on where the other was making mistakes. And Milo certainly was not one who could judge, seeing that his own way to deal with thing wasn't that much better.

"So, this is what I would like to try. I don't think is wise for us to be together right now. But I also don't think it would be better to stay apart, seeing that because of it I nearly lost my job and you were ready to yell at a good customer of Degel. I think we should start over, and take it slowly this time. Let's start with friendship. What do you say?"

Milo took his time in answering. In all honesty, he didn't give a shit for friendship, he wanted Camus on top of him, kissing him until the world ended. But he knew there was no use in rushing to that now, he knew he had to respect the time Camus was asking of him and it was probably the wisest course of action. Of course, he could not elude that other telling he hundred percent ok with the plan, so he spoke cautiously.

"I can't say I won't want to kiss you. Even now I want to touch you, hold your hand, be nearer to you, anything. But I agree it was all too fast between us, and that we should know each other better before going on."

Camus seemed incredibly relieved that while Milo was not going all for the friendship thing, he was being honest and sensible to the whole situation. That understanding made Milo feel a little better, so he went on.

"But anything is better than this bitter taste in my mouth when I think of the possibility of not seeing or not speaking to you. So I guess we could try."

Xxxx

Their good bye that afternoon was much better than the last one. Granted, there was no kissing, nor any touch Milo could savor, but he left the restaurant feeling much more light-hearted.

However, he was still in abstinence of Camus' presence. He wanted to hear his voice and he wanted to test already if they could make the friendship thing work. This is why he returned. He left the truck with Papa when came the time the restaurant closed and walked to be there on the time Camus got out.

The French looked at him curiously when he saw him on the street. He had been the last one to leave and as he locked the door and turned to go there was Milo.

"So, there is a place downtown where I like going with my friends." He said with a tentative smile.

There were no words to describe his relief when he saw Camus smirking a bit.

"All right." The French nodded at last, the smirk still in place when he came down the steps to join Milo on the street "I guess I'm driving today."

**xxxxx**

**Well, I admit: I can't bear to see them upset with each other. Doesn't mean things will go on smoothly after this. Please keep reading =)**

**Thank you for your patience.**

**seafox**


	9. The seed

**I know, it's been too long. In my defence, I have just moved and have been having all kinds of trouble with computers and internet connection.**

**This chapter came out kind of cute, because, as I said before, I can't stand for them being apart too long. Like the title suggests, it is more of a preparation of what is to come in the future chapters. **

**Please forgive my delay. I hope you enjoy.**

**xxxxxx**

Chapter Nine – The seed

_And here we go again._

Milo couldn't help himself when Kardia parked the truck, he immediately popped out and started unloading the boxes. His brother horned impatiently, but Milo could tell that he was doing that just to be annoying.

After their little argument, three days ago, Milo had apologized properly. He was forced to wait for Kardia to show up at their house very late at night and then almost had to tie him up to make him listen, but he apologized. He was more than surprised with the answer he got – it was nothing close to another fight, as he'd been expecting, oh no. Instead, his brother sighed and said it was OK. OK! Not even a small attempt at giving Milo a black eye or something like that. Very mysterious.

Not that he was complaining, especially when he had other things in mind. Like the good time he had with Camus, and Camus' sober smile, and the way their bodies shivered every time their skins brushed by accident.

While Milo was not completely happy with their arrangement, he was glad to know that the sparkle between them still existed. If anything, that whole thing served only to fuel his desire for the French.

"You can stop horning, now, brute."

Milo turned in time to see his brother snorting at the restaurant's owner. No need to say that he was deeply disappointed when it was not Camus that showed up.

"The only way you notice me." Kardia smirked.

It was Degel's turn to snort. "You know what to do. Come to my office when you're done."

Curious at the display – at the unusual lack of insulting from Kardia's part and the lack of indifference from the French's side – Milo had to ask when they were left alone.

"What was that about?"

"What?"

"You know, the whole 'notice me' thing. And the general… absence of insulting."

"You're seeing things." Kardia said with dismissal.

"Yeah, right. Of course I am." Milo rolled his eyes, suddenly having ideas about where his brother had been to at the day they argued. It was none of his business, although it was odd that both he and Kardia had their eyes on French chefs that worked on the same place.

_Speaking of the devil_.

Milo was pleasantly surprised when he found Camus in the pantry. Kardia had arrived there first, already engaging at his usual banter with the chef.

"So, I heard that Milo took you to have some booze." Kardia smirked "Heard that you had a real man's drink."

Camus rolled his eyes. "What good is it a 'real man's drink' if one cannot even hold himself?"

The French was looking at him now with a smirk on his face and Milo blushed. He had taken Camus to a bar, properly introduced him to Aioria and a few others. He was painfully conscious that he had a few too many on that night while the other held himself perfectly, even after an indecent quantity of beer.

"Not all of us have ice on their veins to prevent the alcohol's effect." Milo gave him a half-hearted scowl. It was not his fault that he had been too engrossed in observing his object of desire interacting with his friends.

Kardia laughed on his way out, which didn't stop him from making one of his classic sarcastic comments. "For heaven's sakes, didn't I teach you better, little brother?"

Milo scowled at his back and heard Camus chuckle.

"So, are you up for this evening?" he asked the chef.

"Oui. I'll meet you when I'm done here." Camus nodded.

As they fell into silence, Milo felt himself getting into another trance. The pull of Camus' eyes was just too strong for him to resist, it was a real marvel to look at and more than once he caught himself wondering how in the world he had been lucky enough to have that man.

True, Camus had not been exactly his – especially at their present situation – but somehow Milo was sure that was just a matter of time. Every time they found themselves alone there was something in the air, some electricity that tried to pull them closer. And he knew that whatever that thing was, it worked both ways. In no way the French would still be there in the pantry just staring at him if he didn't feel anything. So, with each day that passed Milo felt not only that their bond was getting stronger, but also that one day he would be kissing those perfect lips again.

"Are you going to leave all the work to me, then?" Kardia growled when he got in the pantry, carrying yet another box.

Milo rolled his eyes and Camus chuckled once again, already on his way out. "Stop by the kitchen when you're done. I have something for you."

Trying not to glow too brightly at the promise, Milo grinned and remained in permanent smile mode the whole time.

When they were done, minutes later, Kardia headed to Degel's office. "I'll go fetch our payment."

Milo almost didn't care about the payment, his mind was too filled with wondering about Camus' surprise for him. Could he hope for apple pie? His pie?

"There you are." Camus smiled at him when he came in "I think there's enough for you and your family, in there."

Oh, yes… That smell… Impossible to get it wrong.

"Apple pie!" he said happily, right in the middle of the kitchen, earning a few chuckles from the other people who worked there.

"So you won't get jealous next time a customer orders it." Camus looked pointedly at him, making Milo have the feeling that he would never be allowed to forget his little row at the pantry.

"Can you blame me? This is the best thing I've put in my mouth!" _Apart from your tongue, of course_. Not that Camus needed to hear that at the moment.

"Wait until my next creation, then." Camus smirked and Milo shivered for more than one reason. Oh, this voice…

Kardia was probably taking more time than necessary to collect the payment, but Milo couldn't care less, the more time he had to talk with Camus the better. The French looked even more handsome when he was in his 'natural habitat', seeming to be very comfortable in the middle of pans and knives – he was particularly good with the knives, Milo noticed.

The other people who worked there were ok, although Milo rather not to see those cute girls around Camus the entire day, seven days a week. You can't blame him if he took the opportunity to stand as close as he could to the chef, in hopes that they would get the message: Monsieur Camus was _not_ available.

The sound of the office's door being opened cut short his territorial displays, but the fact that Camus didn't seem to mind his closeness cheered him up.

"Come, I'll walk to the door." Camus waved with his head.

Always so polite! Milo sometimes felt like a lady in Camus's presence and that should probably feel like a stab to his male pride, if he could notice other things apart from the butterflies in his stomach.

Milo watched the French's face the whole walk from the kitchen to the door, enjoying the most he could his last minutes until the evening came. However, when they approached the door and saw Kardia and Degel talking outside, the smallest of frowns appeared on Camus' forehead. He seemed to be… intrigued? Milo had been perfecting his Camus-facial-interpretation skills and was almost sure that was the case.

"What is it?" he whispered, now watching the two figures outside.

"Later." Camus whispered back, his keen eyes trying to absorb every detail from the other men. Milo watched them too, but nothing seemed especially different to his eyes, so he would have to question his friend – oh, that damn word – after.

When they approached them, Degel's eyebrow rose a few millimetres at them. There were no comments uttered, however, seeing the restaurant owner was discrete and Kardia was busy tucking something into his pocket.

"Let's go, then, little bro. We have more work to do today." Kardia told him then turned to Degel "Thanks."

"My pleasure." Degel answered simply, already turning to go inside.

"Well, I'll see you after work, then." Camus turned to Milo, touching his arm and sending nice shivers through his skin "Good bye."

"Bye." He said quietly, enjoying the lingering sensation of his hand.

On the way back to the market, Milo allowed himself to relax a bit, the truck's roaring motor blocking away the world around him.

It was like that every time he saw Camus. There were only three sounds he could register: Camus' words, his own beating heart, and the flux between them. Was that even a sound? Well, it didn't matter. It only mattered that it was there, happening between them, slowly but surely bringing them closer.

Now that the dust had settled, Milo often wondered how he could have been so blind. He had been afraid, sure, but he should have known that anything would be worth to be with Camus. It felt absurd that one day he had even considered the possibility of not allowing anything to happen between them. As disastrous as things had turned out, the only right thing in that story is that they _should_ be together. Gladly the world seemed to be on its tracks again, and there was great hope for them, if the apple pie he had gained that day was any indication.

Kardia turned to him all of a sudden, taking him out of his reverie.

"I got us a gig."

"What kind of gig?"

"Degel and his crew will be cooking for some fancy party next week. It seems that the hosts are in need of people to do some heavy lifting and setting up a few tents and whatever. It's good money."

"Cool."

More than cool. Much, much, much more than cool. He would be paid to work near Camus. See? It had to be fate, arranging opportunities for them to be around each other even when Milo was not trying – and Milo tried quite a bit.

"I want to see you working, though. I don't want to hear that you were in the pantry drooling at the sight of one of the chefs." His brother said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Shut up, Kardia." He said half-heartedly.

No use in hiding those things from his brother. It could be worse. Kardia laughed, and Milo simply looked through the window, more than content with the way things were heading.

xxxx

_Right. Right. Right. And left. Right. Right. Right. And left._

The rule of stirring only in one direction was true for most things, except for soups, and Camus took proud in being in one of the few people who discovered that.

That was not to say that you could go stirring everywhere as if your hand was drunk. There had to be precision. One might say that there is no precision in a soup, and that was exactly why there had to be some in the making of the soup. Add the seasons and you'll have something next to ambrosia to serve your customers.

"Mlle Sasha said that your soup has to be in her father's dinner." Degel said somewhere behind him.

There were days in which the restaurant's owner couldn't be in the kitchen, because he had to deal with several administrative situations that Camus not always cared to understand but sometimes forced himself to learn, seeing that one day he might need the knowledge to apply at his own establishment. There were days, however, when nothing could drag Degel out of the ovens. His glasses would hide his eyes, making him seem all the more distant and indifferent to the world around him, but in truth he would be observing with even more attention than usual.

Today was almost one of those days. Today Degel seemed to be cooking more out of inspiration, which was considerably rare. The older French, pretty much like Camus, tended more to mad perfection than for artistic ideas.

It was only when Milo was around that Camus knew the euphoria of abstract images translating into food. The thought made him wonder if Degel's mood in the kitchen had anything to do with the fact that Kardia had been around earlier. Sure enough, Kardia was around nearly every day, but there was something different about him. Something was telling him that his boss knew exactly what that something was.

"Of course, I expect you will follow etiquette. The brute and a few companions will be hired for some work there, work that won't be in the kitchen. You can flirt with the brute's little brother after our work is done."

The words affected Camus more than he would like to admit. Even though Degel's voice had been a monotone, it caused a blush to appear on his cheeks. It was not that he had been trying to hide anything, but he hadn't expected to be so obvious to outside observers. Sure enough, his boss' observation skills were above the average, but that didn't make it better. If the flirtation between he and Milo was that obvious that he earned a warning from Degel, things surely must have gotten out of hand.

What had happened to the 'let's just be friends' thing? Wasn't he angry with Milo?

No, of course not. How could he? Milo was a wild thing, and you cannot really blame wild creatures for their actions when trapped in difficult situations. And, of course, his father was most likely the most difficult situation one could face.

Adding that to the fact that he couldn't seem able to be far from the Greek, Camus knew that it was useless to fool himself. His thoughts and dreams and breaths were all to Milo, even when he was cooking. He had even heard it from his professors at college, how his style had changed in the last months. They had no idea why, of course, but Camus did. And didn't really feel like denying it.

It was not like Milo was making any effort to hide his true intentions.

Camus couldn't remember feeling more relief in his life when Milo had told him he didn't like the just friendship thing. While he was not sure if the two of them were ready for a complete romantic relationship, he would probably go mad if he never had the chance to kiss his Apple God again.

Perhaps he should be bothered by Milo's territorial behaviour, like standing too close to him when talking or when approaching when Camus engaged conversation with someone he didn't know. Not that he was in position to point fingers, every time he caught sight of people looking at the Greek with lust he felt like throwing his knives around – usually his freezing stare did the trick, but he was careful to not let Milo see.

It was all very confusing, truth to be told. Never in his life Camus had lost control of his mind and feelings, nor did he ever need a point of reference. Ever since his birthday, though, nearly everything he did was based on Milo, one way or the other. Even in his anger, he had Milo in mind when he left his home - and that had turned out the best thing that happened because of all that madness.

Living with Shaka had its down points, sometimes, but in general was much better than having to deal with his father every day. All of his friends had offered him a place. Shaka was the only one who lived alone, though. Mu had his parents and little brother. Saga had Kanon, and that was a matter he had not been able to tackle yet – the one time the two tried to talk about the ordeal he had only been able to stare coldly at Kanon, holding inside his cruel thoughts for the benefit of his twin brother instead for their old friendship.

Either way, he knew he had to find another place as quick as possible. Camus knew Shaka and Mu had plans to move in together as soon as Mu had finished college. Certainly the couple would honestly welcome him to continue sharing the apartment, but he rather not. The two of them were already doing too much for him and Camus didn't like the feeling that he was intruding in their life.

He supposed he could always rent a room at a pension, by the end of the year, when he would have more money stored. This party Sasha Kido was going to throw would be a nice income that would help him with his plan. He was not very fond of a pension, but it was better than the streets and much better than his house.

When the restaurant closed for the day, Camus took his time. He knew Milo would be outside waiting for him, since they had plans for the evening, and for some reason he wanted to look goo tonight. That night, it would be the first time in a while that it would be just the two of them. As silly as it sounded, Camus wanted Milo to have eyes only for him. You can see then how _well_ this friendship thing was going for him – more and more he wanted the Greek in his arms.

Outside, he noticed Milo had made some effort too. He was wearing one of his two good shirts, the one that was white with a few blue lines. His blue hair was cascading over his shoulders, the colour seeming a bit ethereal in the dusk. The smile was there, too, the one that always took Camus out of the ground.

"There you are. I was already beginning to think that you had changed your mind about Shakespeare." The Greek said when he crossed the steps and stopped by his side.

"Oh, well, I suppose a promise is a promise." Camus smirked at him, faking a defeating sigh.

Milo rolled his eyes, but was soon watching him closely. "You look fine, penguin."

The phrase had been simple, the words were nothing out of the ordinary. It was the glow in his eyes that made Camus feel special with the compliment. That was a very Milo-ish thing to do.

"You look fine, too." He answered, barely registering his hand reaching to put a strand of blue hair behind Milo's ear.

The passing of his work colleagues broke the moment. Camus answered their good byes, and caught sight of Degel descending the stone steps.

"Au revoir, Camus." Degel said, an imperceptible smile tugging at his impassive expression. Camus found himself able only to nod, praying that a blush had not crept to his face.

"Your boss is odd." Milo said by his side.

"Why do think so?" Camus asked curiously, indicating with his head the direction where his car was parked.

"He puts up with Kardia. Outside family, almost no one can put up with him."

Camus smirked, then, remembering the things he had noticed earlier, suddenly not feeling so embarrassed for the warning he had received earlier. Degel was in no position to judge him, after all, not when he most likely was making out with Kardia in his office while Milo and he talked in the kitchen.

"I don't believe is so much a matter of putting up with your brother, but of wanting him around."

Milo chuckled "It still applies and—wait, what do you mean?"

Camus smirked "Didn't you notice them earlier?"

The Greek simply looked at him, puzzled, until his face shone with remembrance after a few seconds. "The thing you said you would tell me later!"

"When you two arrived, Degel went a bit too quickly to open the door for you, but it was not until you were leaving that I understood. I suppose Kardia could be looking like he was because of the work, but I can assure you that I never saw Degel's clothes wrinkled."

"Wait… you're saying…"

"I'm almost sure they were making out in his office."

Widening his eyes, Milo made a silent 'oh' with his mouth. Not quite so surprised, though, so Camus guessed that it probably wasn't news for him and decided it was safe to add his second observation. Kardia didn't seem the sharing type, but surely his own brother would end up noticing recent changes in his behavior.

"Because of that, and because Kardia had a red mark on his neck."

This time Milo looked a little more surprised. "Really?"

"How could you not notice? You were with him the whole afternoon."

The surprise was quickly substituted by a blush. "Well, I was a bit distracted this afternoon. It's not my fault that you're so handsome."

It took them both a moment to realize what Milo had just said, and Camus felt good that he was not the only one blushing. See? That was he was talking about, it was ridiculous to think that they could ever be just friends. There was something powerful and unstoppable between them, only a fool couldn't see that. The fact that in a matter of days their relationship had gone through so many different steps was proof of that. Milo and he were nearly opposites, and were attracted to each other as if it was one of the basic principles of the functioning of the world.

So, really, how could he hope to take things slowly? Neither of them was fit for that. Well, maybe he was in a normal situation, but not when Milo was involved. What should he do, then? Maybe today was the day he would stop that nonsense? Camus was pretty sure that his would be the final word on the matter, he was certain that if it was up to Milo they would be back together already, making out during every second of their alone moments.

After the awkwardness passed, they had a very pleasant night.

Camus, knowing of Milo's taste for plays, had gotten hold of a pair of tickets for 'Much Ado about Nothing'. Mu was full of contacts and had been happy to provide the tickets for him. Actually, a little bit too happy, as if he knew the reason Camus wanted to go to the play for – both Mu and Shaka had been bragging about how unnecessary the friendship arrangement was, telling him all the time how it was obvious that he was craving for the Greek. Which, of course, was true, but he rather not let his friends know that he agrees or he would never be left alone until he and Milo were married.

When the play ended, the air between them was light and joyful. Milo was really happy and as usual started talking without pause about all the things he liked in the story and the things he didn't, commenting about the characters and the plot and the other plays Shakespeare wrote in the same period. Milo actually knew a lot about Shakespeare.

"You should study him. I mean, you seem to know a lot about him so you already study him, of sorts. But I think you should really study him, in college, writing essays and all." He said at one moment, taking the opportunity when Milo had to pause for air "You already have everything in your head, all that you need is a bit of method that an education institution can provide."

"Well, that is the plan, didn't I tell you that? When I get old—"

"That won't do, Milo." Camus insisted "You have a lot of potential. I'm not saying you should just abandon the apples and your family, but one things does not rule out the other."

The Greek looked at him then, apparently considering what he had just said. During previous conversations Camus had hinted that it was a pity that Milo didn't go to college, but never had he been so blunt about what he thought. At first he had been afraid his friend could take offense, but Camus knew that if he didn't say it, there wouldn't be anyone else in Milo's life to do it.

"Besides… what if you don't ever have kids to take on the apple stand?" That was the original plan, right? But to have kids you had to have a wife… and well, Camus was not a wife, was he? If Milo really sought out to be with him on the long run… "The sooner you learn how to do both things the same time, the better."

After a few minutes of silence, Camus watched various expressions crossing Milo's face: doubt, hope, excitement, sadness. He guessed he knew what was coming, fortunately he had been building a few arguments to the cause.

"It would be great… but you know my family cannot sustain this… we need every hand we have and—"

"There are ways to contour that, you know. You can take classes at night, and you can study during the day while you work. I'm sure that's manageable in the stand. As for the money, there are scholarships for students like you, that cannot pay. I'm sure you could get one if you studied for it."

They had left the theatre and now were walking lazily through a nearby plaza. The streetlights on Milo's eyes showed him how tempted the Greek was by the idea, how many dreams he had buried because his family could not afford them.

"Later I could start teaching classes, like a part-time job… then I could help at home even if I'm not working in the stand…" he said lowly, almost as if afraid to let his wishes get the best of him.

"That is a good idea." Camus said, getting more excited too, now that Milo seemed to be inclined to try "You could be a professor, and you could write your own plays and stories."

There was a shy smile directed at him. "I kind of do that already…"

Camus smiled back, knowingly. "I though you did. There is no way someone with so much thoughts and opinions like you didn't write any of it."

"They aren't any good—"

"I highly doubt that, mon chèr."

The blush on his face couldn't be any cuter. Camus was always amazed about how different Milos existed in just one personality and how much he adored all of them – even angry, passionate Milo who yelled stupid things in the middle of the street.

"I don't know, Camus… I don't think my family would like the idea, they barely sent me to school to learn the basic stuff…"

"You're an adult now, though. You can take your own steps. I was in a similar dilemma once, even if my family's reasons were different… And you can see how that turned out for me. I don't think you should let your family decide your fate for you, no matter how hard things seem to be."

At some point during the conversation, Camus arm had travelled to surround Milo's shoulder and the Greek had instinctively leaned in to the close contact. When they noticed their position, though, neither chose to acknowledge it. Somehow that made it all more comfortable… the walk, the silence that followed, the night air… the unknown future ahead, even.

"Camus… do you remember the present I gave you?" the question came quietly and hesitant, Milo was probably afraid of bringing that dreadful day into the conversation.

"Yes." He answered, also a bit reluctant to remember that day, when both of them had hurt each other. Still, the gift was a shiny peace of happiness that had survived that day, and had been the first thing Camus had put in the pack he took to Shaka's.

"Do you remember what I wrote to you?"

Those words. Camus knew for a fact that he would never forget them. Not because they were an immense declaration, full of promises and intricate phrases declaring Milo's feelings for him. But because they were simple and honest, and were something that Camus could take.

_I know, I know, he is not French, but since you admitted he was good, I thought you should expand your admiration for him._

_Besides, there are a few words in here that I'd like to say to you someday… For now, I give you my wonderings, even though I don't write as beautifully as Mr. Shakespeare here._

_I don't quite know what this is, this that we have, but I already cherish as one of the most valuable things in my life. And I don't know if I'd dare to tell you this in person. You're important for me, Camus, truly. Maybe_ _you're more important than I can realize. Ever since I met you the world has taken different colors, as if I can see better and enjoy everything better. I just wish I can give you something similar to the warm feelings I have when I'm around you._

_I can see that you're a cold person, not in a bad way. I think that, cooking aside, you never found much that you could warm yourself to. You probably don't know the good effect you can have on people. You probably don't know the whole effect you have on me. Like I said, you changed my world. Is this love? I don't know, but if it's not I don't want to fall in love. If this that we have it's not at least some kind of love, I doubt love could be better._

_The gods knows how much afraid I am of this whole thing. We are very different and there are so many things that could drive us apart. But I think that we are worth a shot. I think we can move on together, be it love or not. I think we can pick a few things along the way… and I sincerely hope that ours is a long way._

_Happy birthday, penguin. May you live long and world changing._

_Milo._

After a moment – and after bringing Milo closer as they walked without even realizing what he was doing – Camus answered.

"You changed my world, too."

He wanted to say more, but found himself unable at the moment. Milo seemed to understand, and brought his tanned hand to touch the pale one that was holding his shoulder. They walked in silence some more, still too comfortable to break the moment.

"So… I am going to college…" Milo murmured "Will you help me?"

Camus smiled, and planted a light kiss on his forehead. "Count on it."

Milo sighed, content. Then he chuckled. "Here you go, changing my world all over again. Planting seeds of dreams in my head."

**xxxxx**

**So, what do you think?**

**We are approaching the end here. I think there are going to be just two chapters after this one, maybe an epilogue.**

**Thank you once again for all the reviews. It really makes my day when I read all your words of encouragement. :D**

**seafox**


	10. The genius burns

**First of all, I'll kneel before you all and ask for your forgiveness. I am feeling awful for making you all wait this long, even after all the positive feedback that I got from you. I hope that this chapter compensate a bit.**

**I have no way of giving a reasonable explanation for being this much late, but I struggled a lot with the end of this chapter. Not my best scenes, I think. I was never really good at cliff-hangers.**

**I'll let you read and decide if you can forgive me. Please, enjoy.**

**XXXX**

Chapter Twelve – The genius burns

Degel walked in front of them one more time, searching for anything that might disrupt the perfection he was aiming for. Usually Camus was all OK with perfectionism, but the boss had been doing that for the past hour. So he couldn't really blame his co-workers for thinking that the restaurant owner was exaggerating a bit. Then, of course, he could perfectly understand Degel – with Milo walking around shirtless outside, Camus was painfully aware that if he did not control himself he would be all too focused on the works being held at the garden instead of paying attention to his boss.

Most likely Degel was going through similar thing with Kardia, who was pretty much in the same state as Milo. Not to mention how all of the housekeepers were drooling over the two brothers. Camus had been trying to keep himself in check, to not glare-freeze them in the spot – it wouldn't look very nice to Mlle Sasha – but felt better when he noticed his boss had been doing the same.

Even though he and Milo were not officially back together – yet – his jealousy was somewhat worse than before. It was already amusing in itself that Camus was capable of that, to begin with. All his life he had never been one to claim possession over things or contrary to share, but if there was one thing in the world that he wished to call his, and his alone, was Milo. With each day that passed, he became more and more ready to embrace a life that was just full of the Greek.

And while he was not sure to what extent he was affecting the other's life, it warmed Camus' heart to see that he was being able to make some positive differences. The whole college deal had been a shock to Milo's family and he was sure that Milo's father had been eyeing him strange since, but already he could tell the tiny changes that seemed to be lifting the whole family's hope.

Kardia, surprisingly, was the first to agree to the idea and held a key factor into convincing their parents. Despite the initial refusal, though, now they all were giving Milo some kind of encouragement – from cutting him some slack during work to ask how hard he was studying. Never mind that it had been just a week. They all believed in hard work, no matter what. And that was good.

More than good, actually, because now Camus got to assist Milo during the nights and had already slept over his house three times. During three nights of the past week, Camus drove his friend home, ate supper with the family, helped Milo with organizing and giving pointers on what to do and what to study, and went to sleep just a few meters apart from him.

Oh, sweet torture, to know that Milo was just there on the other bed and not be able to touch him. Obviously, Kardia was there too and Camus would not dare anything even if Milo was his again. Never in the past month he wished stronger that he lived alone, then he could take Milo to sleep over without protective brothers around to keep them in line.

Because, truth was that they _needed_ to be kept in line if they were going to insist on that friendship thing. Milo had never ceased to act as if they were not dating, to begin with – he had tried, of course, but Milo was possessive by nature and Camus had caught more than once him glaring at one person or the other. Most likely Milo had seen him do the same, even if he was better at hiding things. Either way, they were both reaching their limits. What was the point, anyway? They had both already apologized for that terrible night and moved on. Their patience was growing thin, and with each day that passed their bodies were getting bolder. A hand would linger longer than necessary at the small of one's back, a shoulder would be dusted even if there was no dust, and knees would "accidently" bump when sitting too close. One of these days lips would touch and Camus would not complain.

_So, slice the carrots. There is no apple god outside._ Easier said than done, but Camus tried anyway. At least when Degel was not looking he tried his best to pretend that the food was the only interesting thing around. Yet even Degel's attention was starting to get thin, his hidden eyes would sometimes drift for a few moments outside. Kardia was probably doing his best to provoke his boss, if Camus knew the Greek.

Obviously, he could not say for sure that there was something happening between the two men, he had never seen anything, there were only clues left in the air for those who paid attention. And in his opinion they were getting sloppier, even Milo now sometimes noticed how Kardia's fingers brushed Degel's when receiving the payment. Probably the waitresses had also noticed how they haven't been allowed to serve them water in the last few weeks – now Milo would invade the kitchen and fetch himself a glass, Kardia would drink from the serving bottle Degel kept in his office – or so the Greek said one day when Camus offered some.

"And that's about it." Degel said at last "We will keep everything sliced and chopped, you all know the deal. Fifteen minutes break before the marathon begins."

That was a new one. Camus never thought that fifteen minutes break was a concept that his boss understood. Looking through the back window, though, he saw that an extremely bold housekeeper following Kardia around was a concept that clearly didn't please Degel. Not that he was any happier about the way a stable boy was offering to help Milo lift a few bars. _Milo might want some water, right? And surely there is a horse somewhere in need of a stable boy._ He had no need to make his thoughts in reality, however. His Greek turned towards him and smiled when their eyes met.

"Break?" Milo mouthed silently. Camus needed only nod for the Greek to leave the metal bars to the stable boy and come to him. He couldn't avoid a smug smile to the stable boy, who scowled and glared at his direction.

When the Greek entered in the kitchen he whistled. "Your boss could open a franchise of his place here, this place is huge!"

Camus chuckled as he poured some juice for Milo. "How is work going?"

"Nah, piece of cake. Lifting pretty tents is nothing compared to our daily work." Milo grinned at him.

"Especially with all the help the stable boys are giving, right?" he couldn't resist the comment as he returned to his slicing duty, giving his back to the Greek to avoid his glance.

He heard laughter behind him and fought down a blush. What could he say, though? It was rather silly from him to be jealous of the boy.

"Saw that, did you?" Milo said and leaned on the counter, letting Camus watch him from the corner of his eyes. There was a playful smirk on those perfect lips and he couldn't avoid a smirk of his own. "Think I got myself a fan."

"Really?" he rolled his eyes, regretting his big mouth.

"Really." Milo said right before he leaned on Camus direction, his mouth suddenly very near to the French's neck "He is not really my type, though. Already got my eyes on a French chef."

"At what time do you leave?" he asked to change the subject but also interested in knowing if he would get another chance to see Milo that night, especially that night. A golden opportunity had arisen.

Milo chuckled at his discomfort but went along, anyway. "Kardia knows these details, but I was under the impression that we would be here to bring everything down after the party was over… why?"

"I can leave only after the party is over as well. I can give you a ride. Or we could stop by the apartment tonight. Shaka will be at Mu's. We'd have some peace. You'd even have the morning for your studies if you… if you stay."

There was much that he left unsaid, and Camus knew Milo was aware of that. He rose to look in the Greek's eyes and they were stuck in some kind of silent conversation. There were doubts and hopes in the exchange, so he made his best to give what assurance he could to the other. He was growing tired of that farce. He was Milo's already; there was no reason to keep postponing the fact.

"I'd like that." Milo whispered, his eyes glowing different from moments before. Camus liked to know that he was the cause of it.

"And your brother says he would like you to work."

They both jumped at the interruption. It was too easy to get ensnared in their private bubble and Degel was as silent as a cat. Luckily Milo recovered quickly.

"Well I better get to it, then. Thank you for the warning, M. Degel." The Greek smiled at him, a light blush in his cheeks "See you later, Camus."

XXX

Whistling happily to himself, Milo got back to work. Few minutes talk with a hot chef and the bonus of the absence of the stable boy, all he needed to fuel his energy! So, he went over to the one of the few tents left and continued to work on it. The whole thing was really easy, with all the quality material and all – nothing like the old hardened wood and metal of the apple stand – the trick was to not get dirty all over the stuff. On the butler's own words it had all to be 'impeccably white', which was kinda difficult when you're working on the grass.

Still, everything was right in the world – in his world at least. And a look on his brother's face told him that his world was not going bad either. Kardia approached him, spitting a few sarcastic comments.

"I think hitting on one of the chefs was not on your job description, or was it?"

"Oh, and making out in dark corners with the main chef was?" Milo smirked at him and laughed at his brother's surprised face.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"You cannot expect me to believe that M. Degel wrinkled his clothes while helping you with the tents." He answered with a triumph grin. Kardia only cursed a bit, probably trying to hide the fact that he was blushing, so Milo laughed again.

"I never knew setting up tents could be so fun." Said a cool, young voice behind them.

Milo turned to find Camus's blond version standing with a group of five other kids, one of them, he noticed, was one of the house owner's daughters – with all that purple hair it had to be. Hyoga was fancily dressed up, successfully making Shun look at him with a permanent blush. Milo could hardly blame him – Camus could do that to him even when he _didn't_ try to dress up nice.

"Hello, Hyoga, Shun." He smiled at them "You should try someday. With all these puny muscles of yours it would do you some good."

Hyoga snorted while Shun chuckled, the rest of the group seemed a bit amused – either because of the remark or because someone of their group actually knew one of the workers at the point of exchanging banter, Milo could not say, in the overall they seemed an OK group of friends.

"It wasn't me who failed to open Camus' jar of pickles the other day, was it?" the blond asked and Milo laughed, remembering the beginning of the week, when Camus had invited his brother and Shun to have lunch with him, Milo, Shaka and Mu.

"That doesn't count, my hand was wet."

"Of course it was, with you drooling all over my brother it couldn't be any different, hm?" Hyoga smirked at him, making Milo laugh again. The banter between him and the blond was never serious, and he rather enjoyed the brat's company.

"Oh, so that is the rich kid's younger brother." Kardia said, a bit of curiosity in his eyes.

He and Hyoga stared at each other for a while. For a moment Milo was mildly apprehensive for the impression that Kardia could make on kids, but then again, Hyoga could be even harsher than Camus when he wanted to – Shun was the thing that held him back mostly.

"So you're Kardia." Hyoga said at last "I thought you'd be taller, to hear Milo talking."

Kardia snorted and smirked at the boy "Rich kid's got some balls."

From the corner of his eyes, Milo saw the small group of friends startle a bit. Kardia did cause an impression on kids. Hyoga, however, smirked in return and turned to Milo instead.

"Do you know where I can find my brother? Saori's father said that good food only during the party, but since I got inside people I thought that we could get something before that."

"Tough luck, then. There's nothing ready yet, only sliced stuff everywhere." He answered, then looked curious at the bunch of dressed up kids "Why are you all so early here, anyway?"

"We're staying here tonight." The blond answered, his arm casually surrounding Shun's waist "I guess we'll have to do with sodas, then. But I think I'll stop by and say hello, anyway. Mom sent a few stuff for him."

"Well, he is over the second kitchen, if I'm not mistaken. Just follow this path here and you will see him through that window over there."

"OK, thank you, Milo. See you later." Hyoga said, already turning to leave "Nice to meet you, Kardia."

Behind him Milo heard a grunt in acknowledge while Shun and him said his goodbyes as well. For a moment he watched the retreating group, now apparently swarming Hyoga with questions. The thing that caught his eyes, though, was the way that the blond and the green haired boy walked arms in arms. It was so peaceful, so… sure.

Hyoga was alike his older brother in many aspects, a little more hot tempered in some aspects, maybe, but that might be because of his young age. In general he was mini-Camus walking around with a blond wig; from the cold, distant posture to the freezing precision of his actions. According to Camus, Hyoga had been a very lonely kid, even when surrounded by boys of his age, only Shun had been able to crack his way inside the iceberg. And Shun was warmness in person, ever with a gentle smile and comprehensive eyes. The two really completed each other gracefully.

In his most silly moments, he wondered if Camus needed someone more like Shun, with a steady heat instead of the crazy, wild fire that Milo was. What if he was too much for the French? The brightest the flame, the shortest its life, isn't that what they said? Of course, they had been in some sort of bliss recently – but hadn't they also been before Camus' birthday?

"You're looking like you're thinking something stupid." Kardia's voice cut through his thoughts.

"What? I—"

"I know you. Just look that way, will you? He is frowning."

A bit disoriented, Milo looked where his brother pointed and found the window from where he could see Camus. In fact the French was frowning, as if worried with him. That instantly eased his worried, so he smiled to show that he was Ok. After a moment he got a small smile back, and nodded before he returned to work. _About time I stop being silly_. It wasn't like he would ever be able to release his grip on Camus, anyway.

Later in the night, the party was brimming with fancy people and the sound of violins reached everywhere. Milo, Kardia, Deathmask, Aioria and a few others they had brought to help were in the farthest side of the yard, watching the party from afar. That didn't mean the food didn't reach them.

Either because two of them were in two of the chef's good side or because Marin wanted to cause an impression on Aioria – judging from the way she offered stuff to him first – they were served pretty much the same that was being offered to Mr. Kido guests.

"What are the chances of me having the truck to myself tonight?" Kardia asked.

"Looks like it, Aphrodite is going to pick me up after his shift is done." Deathmask said distractedly, eyes on the little rolls that Marin had brought them.

"And you got yourself a ride home, I'm betting." He turned to Milo.

"Yep. Actually… I'm not sure if I'll go home tonight." He said pretending to be interested on the leaves on the ground. Milo had been trying to find a good way to break Kardia the news, but truth was that there was no good way to tell his brother that he would spend the night at Camus' apartment. Of course, he didn't have to say that Shaka would not be there.

"And since when you and rich boy sleep alone under the same roof?!" It was obvious that Kardia would guess, he knew him too well. "Do Mamma and Papa know?!"

"And since when do I need permission? You have been sneaking away forever now and they never said anything. I'm sure they won't mind."

Kardia opened and closed his mouth several times, looking for an answer.

"That's right, no one ever talks about it but everybody hears the door closing and the truck's engine." Milo went on, deciding to be fully honest "No one cares because we all trust in you, trust that you are not going to do anything stupid. I just wish you'd have the same trust in me. Yes, I'm in love with Camus, and yes, I want very much to get into his pants, but that doesn't mean we are going to rush into meaningless sex. We haven't even kissed for ages!"

"Milo…"

"Camus and I are friends, at the moment. If we are going to become something more this night, I don't know. We just want to be alone for a while…" Milo sighed, leaning against a wall "You don't need to get this worked up, brother. We care for each other… we… he is good for me, Kardia. I really, really, care for him... And he cares for me too."

For a moment neither of them spoke, Milo just stood there looking at the ground. His face was most likely completely red with embarrassment and his guess was that Kardia was embarrassed too.

"I know he does." Kardia said quietly after a moment. "Just… just be careful."

"I will." Milo smiled at him and found his brother blushing as well. He held back his chuckle for the sake of Kardia.

All of a sudden, however, they heard shouting in the house.

"What was that?" asked Aioria, looking towards the house.

"It seemed to come from upstairs." Marin said pointing up.

Then there was shouting in the party as well, but they had no time to understand what was happening. In the matter of seconds three Men in Black appeared out of nowhere. Two of them Milo recognized as being the bodyguards he saw at the restaurant that day.

"Has anyone run this way?" the redhead asked.

"No, what's happening?!" Kardia asked.

"Someone has broken inside the mansion." The blond answered, gazing at their group somewhat suspiciously.

"We heard someone screaming inside the house." Aioria said "Do you need any help?"

"No, its better if you stay here." The redhead answered while indicating the doorway to the third of their party, who immediately went in the house "Did any of you notice someone strange walking around the property earlier?"

They shook their heads, a bit lost and confused with the whole situation. The blond was about to say something when they heard more shouting and a brown haired boy came rushing their way.

"Dohko, Shion! They have taken Saori! Seiya and his friends went after her inside the house and—"

"You let a bunch of teenagers after them?! What the hell was in your mind, Tenma?!" the blond yelled while the redhead started shouting orders through a radio "Why didn't you follow them?"

"Sasha was in my mind! I was trying… to get her… and Mr. Kido… secure." Said Tenma answered taking deep breaths "One of the chefs said his brother was in the group… and tried to follow them… but there was some fighting going in the kitchen from what I heard."

"Camus!" Milo jumped and ran, not caring to hear anything else. Fighting in the kitchen! _Camuscamuscamuscamuscamuscam us_, his mind went on and on as he ran. Somewhere in the distance he heard Kardia chasing after him and the bodyguards shouting orders and running as well.

The kitchen was too damn far! Even though he was running the fastest he had even ran, he never seemed to reach it. _Bloody rich people's gigantic house!_

Everything came to a stop, though, when he was thrown back by the heat wave. An explosion. The kitchen was on fire.

_Camuscamuscamuscamuscamuscam us_.

"CAMUS!"

From then on, everything happened on a blur. He was on his feet and rushing towards the door, the one where the fire hadn't reached yet. From the voices around him he guessed Deathmask and Aioria were going with him – Kardia was nowhere to be seen but he wouldn't worry about that now.

Inside it was all smoke and noise. Two people that he recognized as the other waitress and Isaak were kneeled in a corner. When the boy saw them he started coughing while trying to speak.

"Milo! … he is there! People… people with guns!" he pointed a door a bit far from the fire "They came… Camus followed the kids… I heard gunshot…"

"Aioria, take them outside!"

With Deathmask close on his heels he jumped around the fire until he reached the door. It was barred. Furiously, he kicked and banged, but it would not open.

"On three." He heard his Italian friend by his side and moved in position with him "One, two, three."

It only worked on the fourth time. On the other side the smoke had already entered but hadn't taken over yet and visibility was better.

A man totally in black with masked face lay ridden against the wall – a kitchen knife was stuck in his leg and Milo instantly saw that it was one of Camus'.

"Camus! Camus!"

"Milo, upstairs!" Deathmask pointed to the other side of the hall where there was a stairway. On the first steps there was an apron.

They heard more gunshots.

"Dite is gonna kill us for running _towards_ gunshots." Deathmask said and cursed in italian.

A wave of guilt hit him for doing that. If Aprhodite was going to be mad Milo didn't even want to think about his mother – or Kardia, whatever had happened to him. But it was Camus!

When they reached upstairs they found a maze of corridors and doors and shouts and gunshots. Suddenly from the door closest to them came Kardia struggling against another masked man.

"Just don't stand there, moron!" Kardia yelled in the middle of the fight "I saw them turn the first left—"

His phrase was punctuated by a punch in the stomach which elicited the direct response of Deathmask jumping in the fight to help Kardia. "Go, Milo!"

Milo was divided for a moment, but they seemed to be able to handle themselves so he went on. His heartbeat was increasing with each pace he took and didn't see Camus. Please, let him be alive. A silent prayer to whatever gods were listening.

He heard fighting sounds behind a half opened door and tried his chances. A masked man came cursing from it but didn't stop to pay attention to Milo, simply ran towards the end of the hall. Dreading what he was going to find inside, he went in with his heart in his hand.

What he saw was something that he most likely would never forget, it was something that Milo would forever carry in his nightmares. Camus was on the floor, the right shoulder of his uniform burnt, a pool of blood around him.

**XXXX**

**Well, we are coming to an end, at last.**

**Once again I ask forgiveness for the delay. I hope you have enjoyed this chapter.**

**For those who are reading the Beauty and the Brute, don't need to worry, I am writing for that one as well. I am just waiting so it will match perfectly with what happens in this story.**

**Thank you for reading.**

**seafox**


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